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#i also thought of something the other day and then it ended up in front of me later
watchmegetobsessed · 20 hours
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TOO SWEET
A/N: i know originally i teased something else with the hozier song, but this came to me when i saw the pics below and i just had to write them. also, i put the bruises on him so go easy on my photoshop skills lol
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
WARNING: mention of blood and bruises
SUMMARY: You and Harry are worlds apart, yet you can't let go of each other, not even when he stumbles into your home in the middle of the night, bruised and in pain.
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You wake to the sound of the front door closing and by the time his footsteps reach the bathroom down the hall you’re fully conscious. There was a time when you considered yourself a heavy sleeper, when the smallest noises could not bother you enough to wake from your dreams, but those days have been gone ever since Harry came into your life. 
You kind of knew what you were getting yourself into, his reputation and horrific stories about his dark deals were more than well-known around town and there was a time you never thought you’d get involved with him. You’re worlds apart, he is the fire that will burn you if you get too close, but it appears you’re the water that could take his danger out. Just one party, one glance across the room was enough to bound you two together and turn your life upside down. 
Surprisingly, you weren’t the only one fighting against the pull. In the beginning, Harry tried to keep him away from you just as much as you attempted to convince yourself he is nothing but trouble. You still remember what he told you one night when you met him at a dodgy bar against your better judgment. 
“I take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You’re way too sweet for me, baby.”
It felt like he wasn’t even talking to you but to himself. His light green eyes were darker than ever as he stared down at your lips and you couldn’t figure out what you wanted more, to kiss him or to leave him. Even though what he said sounded a lot like a promise that he’ll step back, somehow you just ended up even closer. 
Life with Harry is like a rollercoaster that takes you through Hell and Heaven at the same time. When it’s good, it’s a high you’ve never experienced before, he is everything you want and could ever need, he fills your heart and eases your mind like no one can and you know he is the piece you’ve been searching for all your life.
But when it’s low… the darkness feels like a weight you can barely carry and it’s hard to remember what it was like when you were blossoming. 
You never asked Harry to stop his underworld deals, you know it’s practically impossible, but it’s also hard to live like this. Fearing every call you get, fighting intrusive thoughts about what might have happened to him every time he doesn’t answer your messages and then there are the nights like this, when he visits you in the middle of the night but it’s always for the wrong reason. 
The first time Harry appeared at your door at two am, blood running down his face, barely holding himself up, you got so worried he had to calm you even though he was the one with the injuries, but you just couldn’t stop crying and sobbing. 
Now you still get yourself worked up but you learned to keep your face straight as you clean his wounds or even stitch them, but it’s still just as much of a struggle emotionally to see the man you love like this all the time. 
You sit up in your bed as you hear him grunt before closing the bathroom door as quietly as he can and then the water starts running. Reaching for your phone on the nightstand you check the time, it’s just a little past three in the morning, the dim light of the streetlamps are the only source of light in your tiny bedroom, but even despite the darkness, it still feels bright and homey, you spent a lot of time to create this bubble for yourself and though Harry’s gruff and edgy presence feels the farthest from your colorful life, he still somehow belongs here, in your life.
Rubbing your eyes you stand up and look for the cardigan you know you left on the chair in the corner. When you find it you wrap yourself into it tight and take a moment to mentally prepare yourself for whatever you’ll see. From what you heard, he wasn’t limping so that’s a good start, but you still know there’s a whole lot that could be terrifyingly wrong with him to make him come to you instead of his place.
The water has stopped running by the time you make your way out of the bedroom and over to the bathroom. Light is flowing out underneath the door and you don’t know before simply twisting the knob and opening the door, revealing Harry sitting in the bathtub, bent forward, his curls wet and brushed back, bruises covering his shoulders, back and jawline, his bottom lip busted open.
Repentance fills his glimmering eyes when he looks at you and you know what he would say if his pride allowed him to speak.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I want to be better for you, but it’s so hard.”
Walking over you kneel down next to the tub and cup his face with your palm, gentle and soft, not to hurt him and he melts into your touch in an instant. 
“I’m alright,” he rasps as you run your hand down his naked chest, over some of the bruises and you notice how he winces when your cold hand touches a vigorously dark mark on his collarbone. 
You’d do anything to free him from this dark world that keeps him as its prisoner, but ironically you know what kind of consequences one would have to endure to be set free and you fear those would take him from you forever. So every time you see the marks of this evil life on him, a piece of you dies. For him. 
“I’ll get you some pills,” you whisper and try to get up, but his hand grabs your arm, holding you back.
“Just… stay with me, please.” It’s a desperate plea you could never ignore, so you settle back onto the fuzzy rug next to the tub, one arm against his chest as he hugs it like a child, your thumb gently rubbing the side of his neck. But you don’t stay like that much longer. The urge to get closer to him grows unbearable, so you move to stand again and when you see the panic in his eyes you’re quick to calm him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Hesitantly, but he lets go of your arm and watches you as you undress yourself and join him in the tub, sitting behind him so you can hug him from behind, your chest melting against his back as your heartbeats sync. 
His head falls back onto your shoulder while your lips pepper kisses onto his every once in a while, your hands gently running up and down his front, eager to feel the softness of his skin. 
“You’re way too sweet for me,” he breathes out.
“Haven’t we been over this?” you ask with a soft smile. He lifts his head and then turns it so he can look at you. 
“I feel like I’m ruining you.”
“Don’t act like it’s all on you. I made a decision too and I chose to be with you.”
“You made a mistake,” he whispers and you see something dark, something desperate take over his face for a moment, but you’re quick to bring him back to you, like you always do.
Soothing his hair back, you pull him closer so your lips meet for the softest kiss. 
“You could never be a mistake,” you whisper against his lips and you feel him inhale sharply before he kisses you, harder and needier and you’re happy to give him whatever he demands from you. 
You stay in the tub until the water gets too cold. Then you grab him a shirt and a pair of underwear he left at yours a while ago and you move to the bedroom. He finally lets you get him some painkillers and you tell him to get in bed when he tries to randomly fix the jammed drawer of your desk. He loves to play the handyman when he’s over, but now is definitely not the time for that.
“Okay, doctor, gotcha,” he chuckles cheekily as he shuffles over to the bed. He watches you with a smirk as you’re moving around, grabbing another blanket before joining him in bed.
“What?” you ask when he just keeps looking at you smugly.
“You take so good care of me, baby. You know, there is one more thing I think I need to feel better.”
Reaching over he hooks a finger into the front of your shirt, tugging it down teasingly. 
“Oh, really?” you arch an eyebrow at him.
“Absolutely.”
Instead of a reply, you move closer and press two fingers into a bruise on his shoulder just enough to make him wince and flinch back from the pain.
“I think you need to stay away from physical activities, that’s the doctor’s order,” you scoff.
“Fuck, there was nothing sweet about that, damn!” he grunts, making you laugh. 
“But you love it when I put you into your place, don’t you?” Grinning you scoot closer, his arm curling around you instantly.
“I do. Only you can do that,” he smiles down at you.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
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ghyulia · 1 day
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Shouto Todoroki x reader, wc ~2.9k
tw: injuries, a little bit of angst if u squint rlly hard just dumb todoroki in luvv
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There are three times with you when Shouto has to physically stop himself from kissing you.
The first time is when you two are cleaning up after the UA festival. You had offered to stay behind to clean up the little that was left while everyone else had headed to the beauty pageant. You didn't mind missing out on it, really. The performance with your class was already so much fun and left you feeling content enough for the rest of the day. Todoroki, upon hearing your offer, also decides that he wants to stay back and clean up. His excuse is that "Most of what's left is my ice anyway." You smile and say that you would definitely appreciate his help. You fail to notice how the tips of his ears change into a redder hue.
You two work in comfortable silence, getting rid of most of the ice. It stayed like that for a while, until you heard one of your favorite songs playing from somewhere on the UA campus. "Oh, I love this song!" You said, humming along. Todoroki couldn't help but stare. You look so happy. He felt something warm blooming in his chest again. At first, Todoroki had wondered why this only happened when he was around you. He thought he might be sick, but after these..weird phenomena in his body kept on occurring, he took to the web, which gave him a better insight into his strange feelings. Love wasn't something he was experienced in, as he didn't receive much as a child. It was his first time ever feeling this way...
He's so busy staring at you that he doesn't even realize when he stabs himself with one of the props.
"Todoroki, Oh my God! You're bleeding!" You yell as you frantically rush over to where he is. "Oh. I am." The boy murmurs. You grab his hand without a second thought and inspect the damage done. "It's not that deep, which is great! You should probably put a bandaid on it though." You say, flipping his hand front and back. You're so close. Shouto has to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking to kiss you. You two had finally started getting closer. If you didn't see him that way, or if you just didn't want to kiss him, Todoroki thinks he would probably never recover. Ever. So he just tries his best to avert his gaze from you. "I should probably head over to Recovery Girl, then." Todoroki mumbles, still not looking directly at you. "Actually, I think I have a bandaid. Wait one sec!" You abruptly let go of Todoroki's hand before running over to where you left your bag. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and tries his best to calm his nerves. You dig in your bag for a while, before finally jogging back to where you left the boy. "Here! It's a bit childish, so if you don't want to wear it I totally understand, haha." You smile.
The bandaid is pretty childish. It's hot pink, with little kirbies and yoshies plastered all over the flimsy material. Todoroki can't help but crack a smile. "I'll take it. Thanks, (Name)." You smile at him before getting back to work.
30 minutes later, everywhere is clean. Todoroki bids you a short goodbye before heading to the auditorium's exit.
"By the way, Todoroki?" "Your hands are really pretty."
Todoroki swears he can feel his heart explode. He utters a quick "Thank you" before hastily exiting the room.
He never ends up using your bandaid, instead opting to keep it safe in the confines of his wallet. (He just wants to have it forever and stare at it. It's his first gift from you, after all.)
The second time is during your hangout together. Upon visiting Todoroki's dorm a week prior and finding out he had never done the fun average teenage stuff (Amusement parks, zoos, aquariums, the like) you insist on taking him out along with a few other classmates to paintball.
You explain how it works and the rules, and he listens, head nodding up and down like a puppy. Cute, you think.
Paintball is a blast, is all Todoroki can think. The first round was pretty calm, with everyone trying to get into the feel of the game. The matches afterward are pure chaos. The good kind. Everyone is doused in paints of various colors. Hours go by, and everyone decides to have the final match before going to lunch. You and Todoroki are on different teams, which disappoints him a little, but nothing he can't handle of course. (He's sulking miserably.)
The game progresses, and still no sight of you. Todoroki lets out a small sigh before scouting the area for a potential target. He doesn't notice you sneaking up behind him. You decide that instead of shooting him, it would be more surprising if you just throw all of your paintballs at him. By the time he realizes you're behind him, it's too late. "Gotcha!" You shout. Todoroki's covered in paint from head to toe now, but he knows that your arsenal is wiped out. He gets to work, quickly trying to grab his gun and extend the distance from you two. You don't allow that though, closing in on him even more and attempting to grab the gun from his hand. As a last-ditch effort to get you, Todoroki tries to reach for the paintballs attached to his thigh. You frantically grab his hand and intertwine your fingers in them, pushing him backward until you both fall over. At this point, you both are rolling, trying to take the paint on Todoroki's thigh until you roll right into a designated trap that ends up spilling paint all over the both of you. You both stop and blink. You guys look like a mess. You burst out into a fit of laughter, and Todoroki just stares at you. He didn't even realize the proximity you two are in until now. You smell like green apples...or something else that's fruity. He can feel your breath as you laugh, and he swears he might just kiss you right now.
You finally realize that one of your hands are still intertwined together, and blurt out a quick apology before wiping away some paint from your eyes. Todoroki gets up and offers you his hand, smiling wider than you've ever seen him do before. You take it, and he doesn't let go until you reach the paintball locker rooms.
The rest of the day is just as fun. When the evening rolls by, Todoroki offers to walk with you back to the dorms. "Today was really fun, wasn't it Todoroki? Next time I think we should totally go to the aquarium! Spring break is coming up soon, so we can ask Mr. Aizawa beforehand for permission if you want!" You beam. Todoroki smiles.
"Yeah."
(And it was on that trip to the aquarium where you two ended up on a first-name basis. Todoroki thinks that the paintball and aquarium trips were genuinely the happiest he's ever been in his life. The pictures from those days hung up on the wall in his room attest to that.)
The third and final time is when you get badly injured. Due to Todoroki's feud with Yoarashi, and Bakugou's poor performance during the rescue section, They had both failed to get their provisional hero licenses. You however had successfully gotten your license and had started your hero intern studies with the rest.
You were doing your internship with Ryukyu and were enjoying it for the most part. It was hard, but you were learning new things, so it was pretty rewarding. You hadn't really talked to Shouto much as you were busy with your work and he was busy taking his supplemental makeup lessons. You would occasionally say hi and bye, but that was pretty much it. Shouto was losing his mind. He already felt annoyed that he had let his feelings about his old man get the better of him during the test, causing him to lose his license, but he was losing way more now. He was losing time with you.
Eventually, you and a few of your classmates are pulled into an operation regarding the Shie Hassakai. You learn about the plan to defeat Kai Chisaki, the mastermind of this yakuza group, and to save a girl named Eri. You hear about the horrors being done to her and it sickens you to your stomach. After the briefing, you, Midoriya, Ochaco, Kirishima, and Asui are sworn into secrecy. You can't tell anybody about the mission. (but you so badly want to tell Shouto.)
The days leading up to the mission are horrible for you. You feel so nauseous every time you think about poor Eri. How could Chisaki do this to his own kid? The rest of 1-A seem to take note of the damper on a few of you guys' moods, with Iida always offering an ear to any problems you may be facing. It doesn't go unnoticed by Shouto either. He hates seeing you look that way. He's never seen you make such a sad expression. He doesn't know what to do or how to approach how you're feeling, so he just watches from afar. Occasionally, he offers you some of his lunch. You just force a smile at him and politely refuse, making him feel even more useless. He was so frustrated with himself for not being able to make you smile like you did that day. (His mind wanders back to the paintball trip...).
(You yourself were in your own turmoil. Every time Shouto talked to you, offered you a smile or some of his lunch, you fought the urge to just spill everything and cry in his arms. When did your crush on him get so bad?)
Shouto decides to let it go for now, resolving to visit your room later and ask force you to tell him what's wrong.
But that resolve is quickly crumbled upon making his way to your dorm, hearing the faint sounds of sniffling and muffled sobs. Shouto freezes in his tracks, unsure of what to do. Should he still knock? He knows you'll pretend to not have been crying. He doesn't how he would comfort you...
And so he decides that tomorrow, he'll definitely talk to you. For tonight though, he'll think of all the ways to make you feel better.
As it happens, tonight turns out to be the night of the operation. You slip out of your room at an ungodly hour and meet up with the others.
The mission goes as it goes. You end up separated from the others, left to fight some of Chisaki's goons. You hold your own, making them bite the curb. You only sustained minor injuries, to your luck. You're about to go regroup with the others when some of the underlings inject themselves with a quirk booster shot and all but pounce on you. You grit your teeth and prepare for a rematch. Does it even count as one? You think. You fight, but it feels never-ending. The enemies just keep on getting stronger. Eventually, you're bruised, bloody, and losing stamina. You feel yourself getting weaker. Your field of vision starts to distort, leaving you queasy. You need to wrap this up, quick. One of the enemies manages to leave another deep wound on your abdomen, but you fight through the pain and use this moment to land a fatal attack yourself. After fifteen more minutes of gruesome fighting, you finally land the dealing blow on the last of the goons. You think you did until you see him get up again. At this point, you're bleeding from too many places to count, and you can barely hold yourself up, let alone attack again. So you brace yourself for an attack that never comes. You open your eyes and realize that the enemy couldn't even handle the quirk booster in his system anymore, passing out from the strain. Thank God. The adrenaline wears off, and you pass out, lying in a pool of your own blood. The only thing you can think of before you're out is Shouto and his smile. That day you two went to the aquarium was really fun.
When you come to, you're in a hospital bed. You blink, trying to adjust to the light. You dart your eyes around, observing your surroundings. Is it over? You think, before slowly sitting up. Your wounds don't hurt as much as you thought they would.
You later learn from the Doctor that you had been asleep for almost two days. She also tells you that since your injuries seem to be healing well, you should expect to be discharged by tomorrow. And you do along with the others.
You're greeted at the dorms with a warm welcome and a 'great job!' from most. You look around for Shouto and spot him sitting on the couch saying something to Bakugou. You want to talk to him and catch up on things, but maybe that should wait... You opt to talk with Mina and Hagakure instead. (Once again, You fail to notice the boy staring intently at you.)
You decide to retire to your dorm for the night, feeling tired yet relieved. With the whole operation done and Eri saved you felt like you could sleep peacefully--- for the most part. A part of you really wanted to talk to Shouto. It felt so long since you two had done that. He didn't say a word to you today. Was he mad you didn't tell him about the operation? You tried to talk to him after your conversation with Mina and Hagakure, but by the time you finished, he was gone. You let out a sigh and wait for the elevator.
"(Name)." You turn around to face the white and red-haired boy. Your heart does a little jump for joy. "Hey, Shouto! It's been a while hasn't it?" You attempt to make small talk, but it seems like he isn't having it at all. The elevator comes, and you both get on. It's silent, but not the comfortable kind. You feel him staring at you. "Is something wrong?" You inquire, smiling politely. "Yeah." Shouto leaves it at that and you turn to face him. "Oh..do you wanna talk about it? I was heading to my room if you wanna come with." He nods, not saying anything else until you close your room door.
"So..What's up?" You ask, tilting your head slightly. You take a seat on your bed and pat the spot next to you, motioning the boy to sit. He does. Shouto doesn't know where to start. He doesn't know what to say, so he just exhales and lets all his feelings pour out.
"You...When you first began your work-study you got really busy...Which is normal, of course. We didn't get any time to talk to each other anymore, which hurt me a little (A lot). Then the special operation came along, and you got really gloomy. I know why now, but at the time, I didn't. And I didn't expect you to tell me why you were down in the dumps because it was obvious you didn't want to tell me, but it was still hard to watch you be so sad. I hate watching you make such a pained expression, (Name). I felt helpless. I just wanted to make you smile and laugh like you did for me. Whenever I see you smile, it makes me want to smile too. To make things worse, I wanted to talk to you about your feelings, but I froze when I got to your room after hearing you crying. I hate myself for it. I told myself that I would do it the next day, but by then, you were gone. I regret it so much. Fuck, I really wish I had just knocked on the door. And then I heard that you got seriously injured during the mission and it felt like my heart was being clawed out from the inside. I hated that feeling so much, (Name). And honestly, I lied. Not talking to you hurt me a lot, because I love talking to you, (Name). I love..." Shouto stops and looks at you.
You stare at him for a while, processing everything he said. "I didn't know you felt that way, Shouto." You moved closer to the boy before placing your hand on his. "I...felt the same way, for the most part. I hated not talking to you as much, too. And also, I did want to tell you about everything. In fact, you were the only person I wanted to talk about it to. But I couldn't. But I should've at least talked to you on a general level. Also, I didn't know you heard me crying, hehe. You shouldn't blame yourself for not coming in. You were going to come the next day, weren't you? It was just bad timing. And I love making you smile too. For me, just being around you is usually enough to lift my spirits too. During the operation, and even in my fight, I was thinking about you. So don't blame yourself, Shou."
Shouto just stares at you. All he really wants to do is kiss you, but he stops himself because he's unsure and anxious. He doesn't want to ruin things. He likes you too much to run that risk.
But when you intertwine your fingers with his, lean in, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, Shouto stops denying himself heaven and crashes his lips against yours.
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a/n: ahhh that's it!! I actually really like this and I love todoroki sm :))) I hope ygs like this as much as I do!
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evercries · 12 hours
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤ ഒ ㅤ݂ㅤㅤ𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅ㅤ-ㅤᧉ᥎ı𝗅ㅤㅤ 𝓢𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅ㅤ ⠆ㅤ
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╲ㅤ 𝖮𝖴𝖱 ㅤ✬ ㅤ𝖨𝖬𝖯𝖴𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖤𝖲 (Gojo x Reader)
Unfinished Fanfiction. ‹𝟹 High Chance of Re-writing. Word Count: 2783 AU: Older Sister of Maki Zenin x Arranged Marriage with Gojo Satoru. Thank you for 100 followers !!  ₍ᐢ‥ᐢ₎ Until school is over, my uploading time will not exist, or will exist and you'll be hit with a surprise.
The few times you had visited your family home were kept short, as you disliked being associated with such a violent group that’s been around for more than a decade. You did not realize how much the building had changed until you stood in front of it, the day you returned from abroad to pay your family a visit and because you were demanded to return. The grip you had on the handle of your suitcase tightened as you were guided by the entrance staff towards the door to the huge building that stood four stories high.
“We’ll handle your luggage.” Commented the staff member for the third time, the past times you had refused allowing them to handle your luggage, but apparently, they did not take the polite no you had given. Not wanting to cause chaos early, you let go of your suitcase, allowing them to take it away. 
You continued your steps up to the front door of the main building, but the door was already opened, the backs of your relatives clearly visible from where you stood.
“She’s here!” Shouted an excited Mai who came to your side to greet you, her enthusiasm filling the entire room while the others remained sat, silent, with an extremely serious expression on each of their faces. This included your younger sister, Maki who sat on the edge of the table, her legs crossed against each while her eyes narrowed at her twin sister who was busy dragging your hand into the living room area. Once there, Mai’s grip on your hand remained, almost as if she was showing off her new collection with the way she grinned. 
The awkward silence that followed made you wonder what you were doing back in front of all of these people, it brought back the uncomfortable sensation that you had wanted to forget forever, if you could. Now sat, you waited for them to speak, but they stole glances at each other, almost as if they were playing a game with their eyes. All this happening while Mai sat down on the armchair, her hands in front of her while expressing the confusion you also visibly expressed.
“A kid ate Sukuna’s finger, it’s causing problems with the Gojo clan, and they haven’t found a solution yet.” Maki’s voice overpowered the others, the clear annoyance echoing in the way she spoke, the long stretch and emphasizing how the three clans had not found a solution. You’d think all of them would have one person who came up with something, even if it sounded ridiculous or impossible, but there was nothing.
“What does that have to do with me?” You wondered before pausing. “I must apologize, I thought there was an important family meeting that needed my attendance. From the way the letter was written, it was either I attended or everyone would die.” This was not a joke, even if you wanted to phrase it as such, they did word the letter with an obvious dramatic effect. 
“This is about everyone’s safety, it could possibly end the world.” Naoya commented, his voice cracking with such a subtle hint of sarcasm.
“You meant our clan, right, princess?” 
The sudden comment made the room turn awkward again, but this time it was clear they had another intention of making you come back in such a short notice, practically lying to you about the reason, which wasn’t that out of character for them, but had to be mentioned, and now they could not speak. This was an issue because the Zenin family could not handle a single family meeting without tables being thrown, someone being hurt, and roofs collapsing. That was how uncivilized they were, and you couldn’t even make that nonsense up.
“We’re talking about Itadori, right?” Mai asked the room, but was met with glares from the elders of the room, but Maki’s expression remained the same. “He has an awful shade of pink as his hair colour, he’s a very cheerful kid, and he’s horrible at combat.” Mai continued to talk, her eyes shifting from you to Maki, almost as if she was tempted to tease Maki. 
“He has a lot to learn, is all.” Maki responded, her slender fingers pushing her glasses towards her eyes as she spoke. 
Mai shrugged her shoulders, jumping off from the armchair before picking up her bag which was lying beside the chair the entire time, but you did not notice. “We have a meeting to attend, right, Maki?” Maki said nothing, just grabbed her bag and headed out the back door with her hair swaying back and forth.
“Y/N, do you want to come?” Your confused expression must’ve answered her questions. “It’s a meet, Maki sees it as a competition. Master Utahime says this will help us improve, but I doubt that we’ll have to do anything. Those students are so bad, especially their first years. Maki is just lucky to be in her second year.” 
“Master Utahime?” 
Hanging her bag around her neck, Mai nodded. “Utahime, Lori, my teacher.” Almost as if the elders weren’t present in the room, Mai grabbed your hands once again and began to drag you towards the back door Maki had used earlier. “She has a scar on the left side of her face, how? I have no clue, she wouldn’t tell us the reason.”
You weren’t sure of what was happening, but the best thing you could do was keep quiet as Mai dragged you outside the building, onto the streets, and towards her school where the meeting was taking place, apparently. In front of the school, you realized how old-fashioned the design was, but it was a traditional high school, from what you had heard from Mai’s continuous talking. Once inside the building, Mai brought you to the door of the office, you guessed it was the office because the sign said so, but you wouldn’t be absolutely sure. It had been years since you visited Japan, the language slowly detaching from who you wanted to be.
✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚
“And I’m supposed to leave you here.” She said, letting go of your hand. You glanced back at her, an eyebrow raised quickly. “Ougi.” It was all she said, but you knew exactly what she meant. That son of a gun, such a useless father he was. You nodded at her, which allowed her to give you a quick squeeze before running off in the opposite direction.
Now it was you and this door, it was such a pretty door. No, it wasn’t, you were just trying to pay less attention to the fact of being thrown out into the lions' den because your clan did not have enough knowledge and do it themselves, except Toji, he was the only one with the right mindset. Your late cousin, Toji Zenin was a man of actual talent, the only person you could defend for becoming a ruthless man, but unfortunately he had to die, to a blue-eyed freak with white hair. The worst combination of genes, you mumbled to yourself before turning the door knob, realized it was unlocked, and opened the door. As you were opening the door, it swung open, hitting someone in the face.
“Oh, goodness.” You said, a hand over your mouth as you let out a surprised gasp. In front of you was a blue-eyed freak? The man stood tall, his gorgeous sea-blue eyes staring directly at you while his thick eyebrows raised upwards with surprise, but the clear shade of a crimson reddish liquid ran down his nose. 
“Blood. You’re bleeding.” You said, acknowledging the nose bleed this man was having while your voice trembled a bit while you tried to find something to stop it, settling with the long sleeve shift you had on. However, when you lifted your arm to clean up the blood, the man glared at you, his hand grabbing your arm.
“I’m fine.” He said, letting go of your arm before tilting his head upwards as if he was trying to stop it, but you quickly grabbed his head, which surprised him even more than his eyes widened. 
“That’s dangerous for nose bleeds.” You commented, but he threw his head back away from your grip, but failed, which annoyed him even more. Just as you were about to say something, your eyes caught a glance of long hair, dark long hair standing behind the man. Your hands dropped from his face, apologizing quickly before turning around and walking straight to wherever the hallway took you. Eventually you found the exit door, but slumped against it for a quick second to process what you had just seen.
“That was Utahime.” You grumbled, your hands patting the side of your head softly, the thought of meeting her in such an awkward position did not occur to you, but you wondered if she realized who you were. It’s fine, it’s been years, and you did nothing wrong. You thought, convincing yourself that you’d be fine, before a buzz followed by a vibration coming from your pocket sounded. The notification that appeared on your phone screen brought a huge smile on your face. Yuki!
“Just heard you’re back in Japan, I feel betrayed! [inserted sad emoji.] I’m waiting in front of your apartment, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” It was what the text message said, which made you stand up fast, walk outside the high school, and dash through the streets towards the building. Surprisingly, you found your own way despite being guided by Mai earlier on in the day. Standing in front of your building was a signature motorcycle, its driver standing beside it, their back leaned unto it, but you could tell who it was. Her long blonde hair that almost reached her waist swayed with the wind.
“Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” You asked her, your head tilted slightly while your hands remained behind you. 
“I am, actually.” Yuki replied before throwing her arms over your shoulder, pulling you closer to her as she rubbed your head roughly, your hair started to fizzle a bit. 
“Oh, goodness, Yuki. Anything, but the hair.” You teased her while trying to get out of her grip to no avail, so you just stood there. 
“The hair is the best part, though.” Yuki responded before being interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. Taking it out of your pocket, you checked the caller ID, which showed that your father was calling. Hesitate to pick up the call, you turned off your phone shortly before floods of text messages came through your Lock Screen. It was the location of a nearby house where you knew your father lived, separately from the entire family. Yuki noticed your intense expression, her eyes shifting its attention to your phone screen before sliding a helmet over your head, her hands carefully adjusting your hair and the small ones blocking your eyes.
“Yuki, I can’t. This is obviously another one of his plans to get me to start committing to the family.” You said to Yuki, but to no avail. She climbed over her motorcycle, sat down comfortably in the front while revving the bike’s handles with her hands, waiting for you to get on.
You climbed onto the motorcycle, behind Yuki, your hand wrapping around her waist to secure your balance. Once on, Yuk turned the key to the bike and started driving straight into the streets onto the road heading towards the location that your father sent.
The ride there was peaceful, the wind blowing past you sending a calm breeze through your face, making you smile. Opening your eyes after a while, you and Yuki stared at a building, a very traditional Japanese house, its house widened with stone while it was decorated with plants and flowers. Taking off your helmet, you patted your hair down before carefully climbing off the motorcycle.
“I don’t trust this man, Yuk, if I don’t come back out in ten minutes, kidnap me.” You said, setting down the helmet in Yuki’s hands. “Not actually, don’t kidnap me, but you know what I mean.”
✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜ 🍵✮˚
Yuki chuckled as she nodded. You smiled back at her before heading into the house. As soon as you entered the house, your nose was filled with an overwhelming smell of tea, followed by a faint smell of smoke. The servants bowed down when they saw you approaching them, one stood straight, her arms guiding you to the corner where the door was slightly opened. You nodded, walking towards the door she pointed to, but you paused at the entrance, your eyes shifting from the servant to the door.
Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, revealing your father who was speaking with another man, but you could not tell who the man was as his back was towards you. 
“Y/N.” Your father, Ogi Zenin said, his condescending tone was the first thing you noticed before you walked inside, closing the door behind you. Your eyes glanced down at the man who sat down below you, his white hair being the first you noticed. Ogi gestured to the empty seat beside the unknown man, his eyes staring intensely at you while smiling at the man. 
Let’s get it over, you thought, sitting down beside the man, your head faced forward at your father, a visible uncomfortable expression on your face. Ogi stood up from where he sat, a groan escaping his mouth while he moved to your side, and then the wall that Ogi leaned unto earlier collapsed, exposing an entire room filled with people, mostly elderly people.
“Congratulations to the new couple, the road to peace and harmony in our clans.” Ogi shouted, the room responding with claps of cheers, shouts of happiness filled the room. 
Your head turned to look at the man beside you, his calm composure sent a shiver down your spine, but before you got a full picture of how he looked, you stood up quickly. You turned to face your father, the anger that you felt was indescribable. “You’re a scum, an actual narcissist who doesn’t care about anyone, but yourself. To think I would give you the benefit of the doubt was my fault, but you are such a bloody fool. Go  stick your fingers up your own ass, I am not marrying a stranger.” You shouted, but not loud enough for others to hear, before walking past Ogi and out the door.
Outside the door, the man grabbed your elbow, pulling you aside into a more isolated room, closing the door behind him. Surprised, you stared at him. “Can you move?” You asked him, but he did not move. Now that you had a better view of him, he looked familiar. The blue eyes that stared directly into yours, his white hair that flowed softly, he looked almost like! Nose bleeding guy from earlier.
His left eyebrow raised at you before placing a finger in front of his mouth, telling you to shh. “Behave.” It was all he said after some moments went by before the door was opened, multiple of the servants entering the room, approaching you with aggressive gestures. The man nodded before leaving the door, leaving you with women who looked determined to change your appearance.
Moments later, you found yourself in a huge dress which reached the ground, your hair was done, but you just stood there, uncomfortable with your phone tightened by your grip. You were annoyed, this was annoying, and the fact that you could not do anything but keep quiet was suffocating.
Maki and Mai entered the room, followed by two other people who you were unfamiliar with. Mai excitedly ran towards you, examining the dress and its beautiful decoration. “It’s so lovely, Y/N, you’re such a lucky girl.” Pausing, she turned to look at Maki. “Can you believe our sister fell in love with Gojo Sensai, that’s such a romantic story that only happens in movies.”
“What?” You asked, now this was making you more annoyed. “I fell in love with whom?”
“Gojo, Maki’s teacher.” Mai said, her hand pointing at the other students who stood beside Maki, “And Nobara and Itadori.”
You stood there in disbelief, but remained silent until Mai and the others left the room. You found this an opportunity to figure out what was happening. Walking about the room, the hallways were crowded with people, probably from the other clans, but you slipped past them carefully, remaining quiet as some of them congratulated you when you passed by.
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bomber-grl · 3 days
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hi could I be able to request number 8. embracing them from behind for leo valdez? or if that one's closed by the time you get to this (it's probably popular cuz it's super cute ^-^), then number 30. Laying their head on the other's shoulder also works.
My request is something with some mild angst comfort, maybe Leo is having a stressful day and sees reader turned away from him, and he decides to help himself to some behind-hugs (feel free to adapt that to 30 if that's what you use, also if you wanna switch reader and Leo's places that's cool too). thank you so much I love your writing a lot, its seriously helped me and made me smile through a rough week this week (sorry for making this super long)
Prompt #8: embracing them from behind
The week was long and tiring. You and Leo hadn’t been able to meet lately and when you did it was because of something.
Either monsters, missions, or something just going wrong.
It was a mess and in all the chaos you were finally able to find a calm and quiet place to relax: a place near the lake.
You weren’t the only one affected either, Leos usually cheery demeanor and vibrant light dimmed as exhaustion took its place.
He was really affected- actually. He was skilled and it was no wonder why he was occupied all the time.
Your thoughts stopped swarming you as you picked up on the sound of footsteps against rocks and stray sticks snapping.
It should’ve been scary, it was night but you knew whose footsteps those belonged to.
“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Leos familiar voice rang, loud in comparison to the previous silence.
“Nothing, just relaxing, I guess…” you began playing with the dirt.
Usually sounds of laughter, teasing and jokes would be heard but right now you just needed to be near each other.
He got closer and sat behind you as he wrapped his arms around your your shoulders and stuck his face into the crevice of your neck.
You let out a pathetic laugh, “you tired?”
He let out a mumbled “yea” but then stepped back from his position to stand in front of where you were seated.
Your confusion was short lived as he sat down and spoke once more.
“Can you hold me too?”
Despite the fact that you were both facing each other you somehow ended up switching positions, with you embracing him and now him being embraced.
This time, however, you were both leaning back against a stray log and he was laying in your arms.
Sand was all over the place but despite being near the lake and night, it still held the warmth of the day.
Luckily your hands weren’t a victim of the sand, and so you lifted your right one to play with his hair while your left one remained on his chest.
Mostly because Leo was holding onto it.
“Feels nice” his voice was raspy and his drooping eyes showed how truly spent he was.
“Go to bed, you’re tired ” you spoke without a second thought to your surroundings.
Worst case scenario you’ll wake up by some harpies, maybe Chiron. You’ll get teased by campers, that’s it.
Worst case because if something were to be a danger, you could defend you and Leo.
Leo finally cracked a smile and began giggling at your command. “Really?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm.
You playfully smacked his shoulder and chose to ignore it. “Yea, I’m going to sleep too I don’t care if we become the laughing stocks for a few days. As long as you’re here with me is all that matters.”
He hummed “Kay’ me too then” he yawned “ I never really cared either.
You both fell asleep near the lake and when you both awoke you were lucky and watched the sun rise.
Then scolded for not returning to your cabins last night, dish duty for you!
-
A/n: I’m glad my writing helped you and that you enjoy my posts, it makes me happy. Also don’t worry for how long it is, it’s fine :)
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aezuria · 7 hours
Text
*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by
"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths
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content: leo valdez x roman! reader
╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)
╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly
librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣
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leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?
okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)
"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.
"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.
"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."
they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."
this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.
the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"
"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.
nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.
(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)
leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.
tonight was one of those times.
he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?
as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.
today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-
his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.
the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.
percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?
"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"
"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.
"i don't care! shoo!"
leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.
"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?
"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"
leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!
he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.
"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.
jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."
leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."
"canoodle?"
"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"
the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."
oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"
"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."
you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."
something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.
you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.
"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!
"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."
"because-"
"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."
her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.
"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"
"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.
she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."
"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"
"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.
that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"
oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)
you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!
your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.
you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.
leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!
"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."
finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.
the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"
"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.
leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"
"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.
you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-
a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.
"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.
"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.
"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."
unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"
so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.
"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.
"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."
"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?
that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.
"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."
you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.
"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.
aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.
you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."
"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.
well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."
you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.
"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.
leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"
you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."
the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."
eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.
maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.
you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.
it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.
as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."
"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"
you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.
"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.
"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"
the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.
and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.
"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.
leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.
and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)
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"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"
"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"
"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"
"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"
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dr-trafalgar-law · 3 days
Text
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Trafalgar Law X CisFem Reader
1
The rich scent of coffee percolated through the small apartment kitchen. Preferring to keep the room dark only the tiny light above the stove was left on. The sun had yet to rise and judging by the pattering against the window above the sink it wouldn't matter anyway.
Bringing the hardly sweetened liquid to his lips Law did his best to keep anxious thoughts away. Usually these consisted of work related topics, things he needed to get done when he arrived at the hospital or patients that took priority. This particular morning you were prominent.
He thought back to a night in November. At the time you had been matched for a month and had very recently moved in together. He had been opposed to all of this arranged marriage nonsense from childhood. Forcing people to be together for procreation didn't seem healthy mentally. But the alternative was prison, so most people just went with it.
Then he met you and discovered how similarly you operated so he decided to learn more. You had been pretty forthcoming with your reluctance, almost offensively so. You also felt the need to explain that you had a previous relationship that ended abruptly because of the law and obviously weren't dealing with it in a healthy way.
That week you stayed late at the shop every night working on different orders. When he did see you, you were practically vibrating with nervous energy. So, the nightly ritual of visiting the shop started, at least until that Friday. When he had announced he was coming to the shop you told him you'd meet him at home, which you did arriving at the same time. Even in the chilly humid air he thought he caught the scent of cologne as you passed, chalking it up to the hoodie you must have borrowed from a coworker, as he had never seen it before. After showering you shared the meal he'd brought from the hospital. You didn't say much but somehow seemed at ease especially considering the project you had been working on. Perhaps finishing the cakes provided some sort of closure? No, Law couldn't be that naive. Something definitely happened, something you didn't want to share. However, at the time he wasn't compelled to press you for information. He wasn't sure that even now after nearly four months you'd come clean. It wasn't like you had grown any closer as a couple, and he didn't know if you ever would.
His ears perked hearing your bedroom door softly open and shut behind you. Finally, the smell of coffee had made it to your room inviting you into the kitchen. You rounded the corner in an old purple shirt with the collar cut out, so it hung off your left shoulder, a pair of black leggings and mismatched knee-high socks.
His silver eyes roamed over the dip of your exposed shoulder before swaying up to your yawning face. It amused him that from day one you had no problem looking like a straight up mess in front of him. Perhaps it was because you weren't interested or maybe you just weren't like other girls. No woman he'd ever slept with dared to be seen without makeup.
You wore makeup as well, but it was always tastefully done. Law had surprised himself finding that he preferred you without, he liked the very light olive toned semicircles under your eyes and the natural hue of your lips so much so that on occasion you caught him staring. Being unaware of this preference and very aware of his constant stern expression, you had not thought about the attention being out of attraction.
"Morning." You yawned again running your fingers through your tangled hair.
"F/N-ya." Your fiancé nodded bringing his cup back to his lips.
"Top you off?" you asked pulling your mug from the cupboard not bothering to turn on the lights.
"Big order this week?" Law asked leaning back to hand you his cup.
"No, just couldn't sleep. There isn't much going on today I might just stay here and get some things done." Now that you'd said more he noticed your voice was a bit hoarse.
He hummed turning to let his eyes trail over you, even in the dim yellow light of the stove your skin seemed pale and clammy. Carefully he watched you fix his cup of coffee with shaky hands and move on to your own. The shadows under your eyes had deepened slightly, it was probably nothing, but no one would die if he asked.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes doctor," you smirked handing his cup over, "just a restless night is all."
"Then It's best if you stay home." He affirmed sipping the strong brew.
Somehow it was always better when you made it, though you did it the exact same way he had, yours was something to savor.
"Is it good?" You asked in amusement.
"It's ok. Why?" was his curt reply.
"You hummed," you chuckled, "That means you like it."
Had he? When were you so observant?
"I did no such thing." He glanced away from your smug expression.
"Will you be home for dinner? I was thinking about cooking." The light from your phone caught his attention drawing his gaze back to your face.
"I can probably arrange that." He tried to sound nonchalant, but you caught the intrigue in his tone.
"Anything you'd like? It's been a while since I made something savory, but I can still throw down."
He raised a brow at your enthusiasm, "Whatever you'd like is fine."
"Sandwiches then?" You teased.
He rolled his eyes, "If you can really throw down, how about onigiri, Ms. Chef."
"That will require some research and a trip to the store, but I accept your challenge." You were already searching for recipes on your phone.
After sitting in silence for a few moments and finishing his second cup of coffee Law checked the time and rose from the table to place his mug in the empty sink.
"Seven o'clock." You murmured looking up to meet his stormy gaze.
"I'll do my best. Have a good day F/N-ya." He exited the kitchen, a few seconds later followed by the sound of the door locking from the outside.
After your short trip to the store, you returned home to stock the fridge and pantry. It was shameful how much time you avoided spending there. Only coffee, sugar and creamer sat in the kitchen, and there were still boxes stacked in a corner of the living room waiting to be unpacked. You intended to remedy that.
Moving into the common space you began opening boxes. They'd been there so long you didn't know if they belonged to you or Law. The first was heavy and filled with medical magazines and notebooks. Box two was full of novels, most of them adventure, and the smallest was yours full of framed pictures and photo albums.
You organized the magazines and novels on the empty bookshelf that lined the back wall, leaving Law's notebooks for him to sort. At the bottom of that box you found a small framed picture turned over. Carefully you plucked it from the box curiosity piquing as you flipped the silver frame over. Law hadn't had any pictures of family or friends that you knew of. Making a mental note to ask about that your gaze fell over an old photo of your fiancé. He couldn't have been more than ten, wearing a school uniform with a little yellow backpack hooked over his shoulders. Next to him crouched a tall blond man with shaggy bangs swept across his face and a cigarette pressed between his lips. You were sure he'd always had that attitude and judging from the look on his adolescent face you were correct. The man in the photo must have been his adopted father, whom he didn't talk much about.
You filled your day with little projects and finally got around to making dinner. It wasn't difficult, but it was time-consuming. You felt good about preparing something he had picked specifically. It was your job to make people happy through their appetites, but this for the moment muted the crippling guilt that had been plaguing you.
Seven turned to eight turned to nine o'clock. You covered dinner in plastic and placed it in the fridge before moving back to the living room to binge watch some shows you had missed. It was disappointing that Law hadn't arrived or returned your texts but you supposed that came with being a doctor.
                                                                                          ____________
Law walked in quietly shutting the door behind him, first noticing the pictures lining the hallway. He stopped at the photo of his eleven-year-old self with Corazon on the first day of sixth grade. You must've had a productive day. Feeling incredibly guilty he continued into the apartment greeted by the soft light of the tv, he hadn't even noticed you on the sofa buried in a mess of blankets until you gasped.
"Sor-" Law was cut off as more gasps left the now writhing blanket pile.
Removing his coat, he crouched down pulling the throws away quickly. Your body had curled up into itself as you tried desperately to catch your breath. In the natural motion to ball up you'd smashed yourself into the back of the sofa. His slim tattooed fingers wrapped firmly around your wrists as you clawed at your chest and throat.
"D-don't..." you rasped.
"F/N-ya," he started softly pulling you into him as he sat, "try to calm down."
"Trying." You shuddered grasping his hands trying to fend off your instinct to fight back.
Now your clammy skin and shaky hands that morning made sense to him.
He hummed cradling you while you cried and hiccupped still hooked into a fetal position. Being wrapped in his warmth and hearing his low soft voice helped you focus on your breathing. The dark abyss that had been enveloping you began to fade.
"I'm... I'm sorry." You stammered. 
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hamletthedane · 3 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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tender-rosiey · 9 months
Text
“A BIT GENTLER, PLEASE?”
— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna feeling their baby kick (f!reader)
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GOJO SATORU:
satoru was always all over you, one clingy and affectionate husband.
truthfully, while you would like to say that he is annoying and is making you regret ever getting pregnant, you have to admit that he makes being pregnant a lot easier to endure. his light-hearted way of speaking puts you at easy somehow.
he also made it very obvious that he is excited for the baby, maybe even more than you’re. one of the many ways he shows his enthusiasm is through buying baby clothes and baby equipment and I mean a shit ton of them.
that’s why you’re not surprised when he enters the house with yet another batch of baby clothes, “wifey, I am home!”
you get up and waddle your way to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what did you get this time?”
“I thought you would never ask,” he smirks before pulling out each and every one of the outfits he got.
you’re sat on the couch with a cup of your favorite warm drink as you listen to his rambles, “first off, I got this really cute blue dress! call it a dad’s instinct but I think she will have my gorgeous eyes,” he grins.
you nod absentmindedly as he continues, “second, I got this yellow jump suit? overalls? dungarees?” he switches his accent in the end and you roll your eyes. he resumes, “eh, I don’t care, but it’s pretty so who cares?”
he puts the clothes aside before kneeling in front you, hand resting on your stomaxh, “right, baby?” he coos, “daddy’s going to get you all the pretty outfits you want!”
you’re about to drift to sleep while your husband busies himself with the baby, but you’re quickly brought back to consciousness when you feel her kick against your stomach.
your husband’s gasp quickly follows after before he presses his ear to your stomach, “can you do that again for me, pretty?”
his other hand moves to hold your own and he guides your hand to his hair, “somehow, this is making me realize just how close she is to finally join us, right, wifey?”
“right, ‘toru,” you smile softly and he quickly starts peppering your face with kisses, murmuring about how his pretty wife is simply irresistible.
NANAMI KENTO:
whenever someone asks you about kento, you can’t find the words to stress just how much of a sweetheart he is. he was always a caring and attentive man.
yet, somehow it amplified after your pregnancy: he helps you rest as much as he can, cooks for you, and gets you all the snacks you would like.
you also remember the first time you told him that your feet hurt, and he ended up massaging it for you. you cried that day.
in summary, he never left you in need of anything, like right now for example.
“y/n, would you like anything else?”
a dopey smile is plastered on your face as you relax further in the cushions, feet propped up on the pillow your sweetheart of a husband got.
he places your favorite snacks right by your side. you cup his face and press a lingering kiss on his cheek, “no, thank you, kento.”
he nods and takes a seat beside you. he takes your hand into his and starts rubbing your hand, “we should start preparing the baby’s room,” he murmurs softly.
you nod, head resting on his shoulder, “you’re right. we need to welcome our little princess well.”
he chuckles and his hand moves to rest on your stomach, “I assembled the crib already so that’s something to be proud of.”
nanami’s arm is wrapped around your shoulder and you snuggle closer into his chest, giggling, “my strong, independent, and reliable husband,” you sigh happily, “whatever will I do without you?”
he half-heartedly rolls his eyes, “flattery is getting you nowhere.”
“but it does!” you laugh and he lightly tickles you. your hand rests on your stomach, alongside his. you smirk, “what do you think, baby? is mommy right?”
to your absolute delight, the little girl kicks against your womb making you squeal and instantly look at your husband, “kento, did you feel that?!”
“…yeah,” his face is one of awe. she kicks once again and nanami can’t help but press a kiss to your stomach, “looks like she is a strong, healthy baby.”
 “just like her dad,” you chuckle but stop to think about it for a moment before concern over takes your face.
nanami’s gaze quickly snaps to you, “what’s wrong?”
“if she will be as strong as you then god help my uterus.”
GETO SUGURU:
geto gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you.
in addition to that, nanako and mimiko love hanging out with you so it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you’re accompanied by someone.
today, he was doing some of his usual works in the establishment? shrine? eh whatever.
no fiber of his being expected the girls to burst into the room, grins filling their faces, as they urgently call him, “geto-sama! you have to see what just happened!”
with no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the girls. he asks them, voice laced with concern, “is y/n okay? did something happen?”
the girls giggle as they finally near your room. mimiko speak up, “she is okay! but something important really did happen!”
somehow, it sends geto more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?
after a while, they are finally there, and geto wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.
you giggle, “’calm down, suguru,” you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, “can you feel it?”
“feel it? what do you mean—“ he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.
you nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.
he rests his head against your stomach, “how are you, little buddy?”
geto chuckles softly, “better not cause trouble for your pretty mom,” his eyes lock with yours, “I hate to see her in pain or discomfort.”
you roll your eyes before patting your husband’s head, “you’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“I would rather only charm you, y’know,” he chuckles.
the both of you completely forget about the pair of girls standing at the door way, each snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you.
nanako snickers a little before teasing, “that line was a bit cheesy, no?”
he quirks an eyebrow at them and they quickly flee away. with a soft sigh and a gentle chuckle, he goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.
RYOMEN SUKUNA:
it’s safe to say that sukuna was surprised with the news of your pregnancy, but he came to terms with it quicker than you expected.
he just had to sit with himself a bit and understand that the ‘brat’ in you was his ‘brat’ as well.
he also found himself staring at your stomach longer than he would like. he started to really think about how life will go on from this point onwards.
he is a feared man, the king of curses, with no weaknesses to ever exploit.
that is until you came into his life. he grew fond of you and the rest is history. right now, though, you’re carrying his child.
after a long day, he finally enters your chambers and finds you fast asleep.
he guesses that carrying a child of his own must be more exhausting than that of a normal man. his feet take him to you and his figure towers over your sleeping form.
he watches your expression contort ever so slightly as you stir, perhaps in seek of your comfort.
he sits by your side and his hand traces your every feature, nails slightly grazing you but never hurting you. finally, it reaches your stomach and he frowns lightly.
he sighs, “just what the hell am I going to do with you?”
he feels a light kick against his palm.
his eyes widen at the movement and his hand involuntary presses against your stomach once more, wanting to feel the kick once again. he narrows his eyes, “what? you think that light kick is fit for the kid of the king of curses?”
as if understanding what he said, the baby delivers one rough and tough kick to your abdomen. you wince and whine at the pain, “sukuna, don’t be mean to the baby…”
“I am not trying to, woman,” he grumbles, “that kid is just short-tempered.”
sukuna is sporting quite the frown but it doesn’t stop his hand from massaging your stomach and you hum in content before sassing him, “oh wow, I wonder where did he get that from.”
you squeak as you feel a pinch to your side. you glare at sukuna who glares at you back before replying, “he got it from one stubborn woman who happens to be mine.”
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taglist: @magenta-cat-drawings @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo
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copyright © tender-rosiey
do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported
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blondedmuse · 4 months
Text
MISERY BUSINESS
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felix catton x reader
synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.
author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??
word count. ⨾ 2.7k
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The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.
He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.
Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”
You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.
“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.
He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”
You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.
You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.
He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”
You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”
“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”
“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.
“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.
“Really?”
“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.
"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."
"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."
"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.
"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"
When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.
"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."
He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.
“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”
He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.
“He’s going home after the party.”
The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.
"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.
So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.
"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.
You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."
He laughed with you. "You have wings too."
"But I'm a fairy"
"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.
Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.
“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.
“My heels,” You answered.
He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”
“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”
“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.
"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.
"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.
"I didn't ask you anything."
"You didn't have to."
You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.
"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.
"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.
"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.
"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.
"You need to use your words, darling."
"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.
"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.
"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.
"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."
He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."
Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.
"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.
"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.
You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.
He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.
"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.
"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.
He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.
"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.
His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.
"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."
Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.
"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.
"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.
"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.
"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.
He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."
You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.
"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.
"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.
"As you wish, my love."
He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.
"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.
"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.
"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.
You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.
Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.
"What? Are you okay? What's-"
You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.
"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.
"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.
“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.
“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.
"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.
"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."
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kentofic · 2 months
Text
Eyes on me - Nanami Kento x f!reader
absolute pwp 18+ MDNI — cw: dry humping, oral, overstimulation, praise, throat fucking, a needy brat of a reader, and just all around self-indulgent filth
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Fuck the euphemisms and the beating around the bush. You’re horny. You’ve been clenching your thighs all day at work. You’ve been indulging in dirty daydreams that always end in you bent over a desk. You’ve been doing kegels just to feel something.
But Kento is holed up in his office, ignoring you.
You pace back and forth in front of the door to his home office. You figure you should leave him be. He already hates overtime, and he’s probably in a rotten mood. But you’ve had such a long day, and you’re so wound up now, you won’t get through even the coldest shower without breaking and touching yourself. And to be fair, you’re usually fine with touching yourself. But right now, you need to be touched by him.
“I can hear you clomping around out there.”
You stop in your tracks, grimacing. You hear Kento sigh before he says, “You can come in.”
You open the door a sliver and peek in to see Kento with his head propped up in one hand, the other poised over a pile of documents. Still working, as you thought. And a full hour past quitting time, which explains why his brow is pinched with annoyance.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.
“I was, uh…lonely. Just wanted to see you,” you grin sheepishly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. He says nothing for a moment, just looks you over with those sharp, observant eyes. Those eyes that burn through you, pooling molten warmth in your gut. You fidget under the weight of his gaze and squeeze your thighs together, trying not to look as desperate as you feel.
“Hmm,” Kento murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a wry smile. “Lonely isn’t the word I would use.”
You stiffen, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s right, but hey. “Well, what word would you use then?” you huff, bottom lip poked out in a pout. He smirks.
“Needy.”
You splutter for a moment, caught. You try to explain it away, tripping over your words, while Kento observes you with an amused smile.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupts you once he’s had his fill of your stammering, eyes glittering with mirth. He pats his thighs, his slacks stretched deliciously taut over the thick muscle. “Come here.”
Your heart swells, embarrassment forgotten. You rush over with the intent of clambering into his lap. He stops you for a moment, holding you at arm’s length as he smooths your hair out of your face. You’re so pent up that even that innocent action makes you want to whimper. But his smile has tempered back to a serious expression, so you bite back your desperation and try to show him you’re listening.
“I need to get these papers sorted tonight,” he says. You frown, and he sighs. “I know, I don’t want to do them either, but they need to get done. It shouldn’t take long. If you can be good and occupy yourself until I’m finished, then…”
He trails off for a moment, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your nerves buzz at the short, tender contact. “Then I’ll take care of you. Understood?”
Heat unfurls at the base of your stomach. “Understood,” you salute, overeager. He chuckles.
Kento leans back to make room for you. You settle yourself in his lap, facing him, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing yourself to his broad, warm chest. He’s so tall, it’s easy enough for him to hook his head over your shoulder and keep working. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the fresh, familiar scent of his aftershave. You should feel calm, content, like you often do when he holds you like this. Instead you just feel even more hot and bothered, and you can’t help but want to fidget and find some friction against him.
Kento said to be good. But he also said you could occupy yourself. And then he let you climb onto his lap. So, really, hasn’t he given you permission to occupy yourself… using his lap?
A little rub wouldn’t hurt, you reason. It might help ease the sharp burn of desire between your legs—reduce the tension that has you all strung out. He already knows that you’re all worked up. You’re just taking care of yourself until he can do it for you. Yeah, you think, a little rubbing would be fine.
You shuffle your hips against him experimentally, holding your breath for a reaction. Kento does shut down your bratty antics from time to time. But he doesn’t stir, doesn’t chide you, just keeps scratching away at whatever documents he’s tending to. You shift your hips down again, more deliberately—it can’t be mistaken for repositioning. Still, he says nothing. So you shift forward again, and this time you fully grind down with the pressure you need. The friction is delicious, and a little moan bubbles up from your throat.
You feel Kento’s hand come up to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot under your ear. You freeze, a pleasant shiver running through you. He hasn’t scolded you, but his gentle grip on your neck makes you feel like he wants you to ask.
“Kento,” you mumble into his shoulder, “…Is this okay?”
“Is what okay, my love?” he replies, seemingly indifferent—as if his warm hand isn’t smoothing down the length of your back before stopping to grasp at the soft flesh of your hip. You let out a shaky breath as you shudder.
“…R-Rubbing myself on you? While I wait,” you say in a soft rush of air. You press your face into his neck, cheeks prickling with warmth.
Kento lets out a slow, measured exhale and squeezes your hip. He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and so obviously pleased.
“Do as you like, sweetheart.”
You hear him pick up his pen again, but his non dominant hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. You feel his promise to take care of you seared into you with each pad of his fingers.
You start grinding down on him again, building a rhythm. It feels so good— the pressure and friction and warmth of him against you, even through layers of fabric. You feel him start to harden beneath you, and you smile to yourself. Even if his mind is occupied with silly paperwork, Kento’s body belongs to you and only you.
A wicked little idea starts to take form in your mind.
You let soft, deliberate sounds of pleasure spill from your lips as you grind into Kento’s steadily growing erection. You pant as you rock against him, fanning warm breath across his neck with each exhale, your lips just barely brushing his skin. You relish in how your usually unflappable lover stiffens, your soft lips and sweet little sounds curling a shudder down his spine. You don’t push it too far—you agreed to be good after all. But you dance up to the line, feeling equal parts giddy and greedy.
Emboldened by Kento’s small reactions, you slowly swirl your hips the way you know he loves, and you let out a breathy sigh of his name. You feel the muscles of his neck tense, and he clears his throat. You think he might finally chide you, but he doesn’t. Wordlessly, he reaches between you to readjust his cock so it isn’t pinned to the side as it strains against his slacks. He aligns it vertically, his flushed tip peeking out from his waistband. You grin widely, having won your prize. You’re not the only one who’s needy now.
You press down against him, rutting your clothed cunt against the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as the soft material of your shorts catches against his sensitive tip, and you know soon it’ll be smeared with precum. You rock against him with a fervor now, trying to shift your hips at a better angle each time, pitching your pelvis forward to try and catch more of your clit on each down and upward motion. Trying to get more of that delicious friction that’s pooling wetness in your panties. But even as you pant softly into his shoulder and work yourself against him, you know it won’t be enough.
It’s all Kento’s fault. Before you met him, an orgasm was a simple delight that your own fingers could give you with ease. But now your body knows him. It knows how he feels pressed deep into you, snug against your cervix, filling you up completely. It knows the true depths of pleasure that you’re capable of feeling only when he’s inside you. Even if he hasn’t left any lasting marks, Kento has engraved himself into your body.
You need him to fill you. And right now, you’re warm and wet, but so empty.
You whimper, rocking yourself faster, more desperately. It feels good—really good—but the more you try to chase that goodness to an orgasm, the quicker it seems to slip away. You’re riding a wave that refuses to crest and crash down—it just undulates over and over. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on that small flame inside you, trying to get it to burn just a little bit brighter.
Then all of a sudden, Kento’s other hand is sinking into your hip and he’s griiinding up into you with so much pressure that you gasp.
“Not enough, is it?” Kento says, his voice husky and strained.
You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh of relief. “Not enough. I need you,” you pant, your hips still bucking against his—chasing the heat of his reciprocating friction.
Without warning, Kento stands up, and you squeal as you lose balance on his lap. You lock your legs around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulders to avoid falling. He uses one arm to hold you up, and with the other hand he neatly gathers and tucks his documents into a drawer. With a soft grunt, he sits you down on his cleared desk.
You start to release your koala-like hold on him, only for him to pull you into a searing kiss that has you scrabbling at the nape of his neck for purchase. His tongue licks into your mouth with a force and precision that makes you moan. You kiss him back in earnest, your legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in as close as you can.
You both part, panting. Kento caresses your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with those dark, lust-glazed eyes that say without words that he intends to devour you. Then he places a hand in the center of your chest and gently pushes you down on your back. You stare up at the light fixture, dizzied, as he lifts your legs from around his waist and scoots you further back onto the desk.
You gasp when you feel him lift your hips and remove your shorts and panties in a single, sharp tug. You’re bare to him now—the cool air making your wet folds feel icy cold. But only for a moment. Because then he presses that searing hot tongue to your core and oh. You can’t help but arch up into the sensation as the flat of his tongue slides through your folds, lapping up the mess you’ve made while waiting for him.
“Sweetheart.” You feel the affectionate name rumble against your sensitive folds. “You’re dripping. All this for me?”
“Y-yes—fuck, Kento,” you whimper as he dives in again, working his tongue into your sopping entrance before slowly licking back up to your clit. “I couldn’t wait—I need you, Kento, please—“
You’re cut off by your own moan as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Your hips lift off the desk to meet the hot, wet suction as best you can. He lets you press yourself into his mouth, sucking hungrily at the sensitive nub until your thighs are trembling. Then he releases your clit with a wet sound, and he works back into your soaking folds to taste you again, groaning softly as he slurps and swallows down your arousal.
That small flame you were chasing while grinding against him is now building into an all-consuming fire. You can feel the pulse of it deep in you as the sensation mounts, stronger and hotter. The pleasure Kento gives you is so intense and sudden after hours of restraining yourself, you feel your body starting to run away with the feeling—a freight train gaining speed, out of your control. You’re going to come if he doesn’t stop, and this isn’t how you want it, even as good as it is.
“Kento, gonna come,” you gasp out, clawing at the smooth surface of his desk. “Don’ wanna come—stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet—“
Kento lifts his mouth from you the moment you say stop, but he doesnt remove his face from between your legs. He peers up at you from there with those sharp eyes, half-lidded and dark. The visual alone could send you over the edge if you weren’t desperately trying to stave off your own orgasm.
“And why don’t you want to come yet?” he asks with suspicion—seemingly resentful that you pulled him away from such a delicious meal.
You swallow, trying to catch your breath. You know what you want, and embarrassment aside, you’re determined to have it.
“Wanna come on your cock,” you say softly.
It’s not just dirty talk, or a move to play up his ego. You need it. You’ve needed it all day—to come undone with him splitting you open, filling every inch of you.
The moment you make your request, Kento’s expression shifts, and for a second, your desperate desire is mirrored on his face. Then in a quick succession of motions, he’s standing up, undoing his belt, pulling his cock out of his pants, and yanking your hips towards him with such sharpness that you yelp.
“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmurs as he leans over you, one hand aligning his cock with your entrance. He cups your face, tilting it so you look into his eyes as he presses the blunt head against your opening. You whimper at the beginning of the stretch.
“So fucking good for me. So perfect,” he rasps, his eyes burning. “Asking for what you want like a good girl. You want to come on my cock? Then go ahead and come, sweetheart.”
He slams into you in one precise thrust that has you squealing at the sudden, blinding-hot stretch of it—the press of it into the deepest parts of you all at once. Even if you’ve had it a thousand times before, the way he fills you still hits you like a boulder. He thrusts once, twice, three times, each devastatingly deep, and you’re gasping for air as if he’s fucked all the breath out of you.
This. This is exactly what you needed. To be taken apart by him in the way only he can. You can’t contain the blaze that’s been built by your dry humping, and the wet heat of his tongue, and him, just him—the man that drives you wild just by sitting there and doing paperwork. Kento holds your gaze as he fucks into you, looking at you like you’re a treasure, like he wants to eat you alive, so utterly devoted that it makes your heart swell, and it’s too much. It’s all too much, in the very best way.
Everything locks down and the heat explodes. You cry out his name when you come, your body shuddering and writhing with the force of it. Kento stills his hips and lets you pulse and clench around him as it works, and you swear you only ever want to come with him inside of you—the fullness radiating pleasure into the deepest parts of you.
When you finally come down from your high, you’re still trembling, and Kento is smoothing your hair out of your face as he studies you. His expression is soft but dark in an indecipherable way.
When your lucid eyes find his, he asks, “Did that feel good, sweetheart?”
You nod weakly, and you feel his cock jump a little inside you. He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.
“Mm, that’s good, love. Now give me another.”
Before you can process it, before you can open your mouth to protest, he’s drawing out of you and plunging back in with full force, and you scream.
Your brain and body are already fried from your first orgasm, haven’t had time to recalibrate—and he wants another. And he seems determined to take it from you.
Kento sets an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into you with deep precision, bottoming out every time he rolls his hips into yours. Every drag of his girth against your walls feels like it sprays off sparks of electricity, and you can’t help but try to curl back from him, trying to escape the intensity of the feeling. Your recoiling is met with a firm grip on your neck—not enough to truly choke you, but enough to keep you from scrambling away.
“No running,” he says in a warning tone, snapping his hips forward with each deep thrust, never slowing his pace.
“‘s too much,” you slur out. You’re trying not to run, you’re trying your best to take it, but it’s so hard when every stroke feels so white hot.
“You can take it, sweetheart. Give me another, I know you can,” Kento coos—and you want to. There’s nothing you want more than to give Kento whatever he asks for, especially when he’s sweating and flushed and looking so in love as he thrusts into you.
“I’m trying, ‘m tryin’” you whine, hot tears starting to prickle in your eyes at the overstimulation.
“It’s okay, love, just let go. Let go and give me another,” Kento says, more softly now, moving his hand from your neck to cradle the side of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he works deep in you. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears spill down your cheeks. “I wan’ to, I want to—but I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. You’re going to right now, love, I can feel it,” he says lowly, and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. He’s right.
Your body’s feedback to your brain must be delayed, because you don’t even feel your peak building until it’s suddenly there—looming over you, drawing your whole body up taut before crashing down like a tsunami. Your second orgasm blazes through you in an instant, and you let out a strangled cry as it takes you by surprise.
“Good girl, there it is,” Kento soothes as you writhe and sob through it. He finally slows his pace as you shudder and whimper and grab at his shirt to keep yourself grounded—trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart.
You lose focus of his face for a moment—your eyes must roll back, because you hear him say “Eyes on me, love” in that low, smooth voice of his. With some effort, Kento swims back into your vision—his expression a portrait of lust and reverence. If you weren’t in the throes of such miserable pleasure, you might notice how his hands are starting to shake, how his jaw is clenched, how his hips stutter as he slowly, slowly strokes in and out of you now—on the edge of losing control.
You gradually come down from your peak until you’re back on solid ground. You blink up at Kento, dazed, your head resting heavy against the hard wood of his desk. You devour the sight of him above you. He’s panting softly, a few strands loose from his usual slicked-back hair and now hanging into his eyes. His tie is loose and his dress shirt is rumpled from where you gripped it. An unkempt, sex-mussed Kento—the sight makes you throb, and you wonder how your body can still respond to him after coming twice.
At least his hips are still now, which is a small mercy for your blindingly sensitive cunt. You gaze up at him, eyes soft, as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head to catch his thumb in your mouth and suck it, and he lets out a low groan.
“Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give me one more, sweet girl,” he warns.
You promptly release the digit, which makes him laugh. He presses his thumb back between your lips and watches lovingly as you lave over it with your tongue then release it with a final, wet kiss. He can’t help but shudder a little, and you notice.
“Are you close?” you ask softly, and he nods.
“Don’t know if I can hold back. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking a little pained. You can see now the visible signs of his restraint, and it warms your heart that he’s worried about you. Even when he takes you beyond your limits, he’d never push you to the point of breaking.
“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more right now,” you admit, your thighs still trembling. “…But if you want, you can fuck my mouth,” you grin, your mouth watering at the thought.
Kento’s eyes widen, then darken, and a soft groan slips from his lips as he surges forward to kiss you.
“You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “So good for me. Get on your knees.”
You scramble to comply, and Kento helps lever you up and off the desk so you can kneel at his feet. He grabs a cushion from his chair and leans down to slip it under your knees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he draws back to his full height. Your heart brims with affection at the simple sweetness of the action.
You look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and press soft kisses to his thigh that make him shudder. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, flushed and shining with your own wetness. You grab the base, testing the girth in your hands, and Kento lets out a soft, strangled sound.
“You really are close, huh?” you giggle, licking a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on his hot flesh.
He grits out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as you take his swollen tip between your lips. You suck on him gently, circling your tongue around the head, and you feel him throb on your tongue in response. Kento’s hand finds its place in your hair, gripping firmly as he slowly rocks into your mouth. You open your jaw further and meet his shallow thrusts with eager bobs of your head, sucking greedily around him.
You love taking Kento in your mouth, if for no other reason than to drink in his reactions. The soft grunts and pants and groans you pull from him make you preen. You watch him through your eyelashes—the way his brow is knitted, his jaw slack and bottom lip trembling with restrained pleasure. You do your best to burn the image into your mind. Though there is one part of this gorgeous vision that could be improved. You pull off his cock with a wet sound and rest his throbbing shaft on your cheek as you squeeze the base with one hand.
“Eyes on me, Ken,” you grin, parroting his earlier words. The irony isn’t lost on Kento, who lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. He dutifully opens his eyes and peeks down at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. When his eyes meet yours, he groans and turns his head away, his cock twitching against your cheek.
“I really won’t last if I look at you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice breaking with the effort to restrain himself.
“I don’t care if you last. I want to taste you already,” you grin. He huffs out a shaky breath as you rub his tip against your slick, swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth, Kento. I want you to come down my throat,” you urge him, your eyes burning into his.
His breath hitches, and you feel his hand tighten its grip in your hair. “…I can’t be gentle,” he warns you, eyes flaring and voice tight.
“Then don’t be,” you hum, smiling before kissing the tip of his cock. Kento’s hips twitch, and he groans.
“Fuck. I am going to ruin you,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you can’t take it, slap my leg. If you don’t, I won’t stop.”
A thrill runs through you, and you feel your pulse throb through your cunt. You nod, dizzied and giddy with the promise of Kento using your throat.
You slacken your jaw and place his tip on your tongue, then look up at him with expectant eyes—waiting for him to set the pace. He hisses a breath out through his teeth as he readjusts his grip in your hair—then he plunges his cock into the waiting heat of your throat.
You gag at the intrusion, but you do your best to open your throat, even as your body jerks as you choke around him. He sets an unforgiving pace, stuffing his cock down your tight, wet throat as you try diligently to take him—fresh tears burning in your eyes from the effort.
He moans as you take everything he gives you, his gaze fixed on the way your lips stretch around him—a slick mess of spit and precum clinging to his shaft and dripping down your chin as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t tap out—you just dig your fingers into Kento’s thighs, deliriously happy to choke around him if it’s for his pleasure.
“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re so fucking perfect—taking me so well, choking on me—gonna make me f-fucking come—“
Mindless praise spills from Kento’s lips like a prayer as he rocks into the wet heat of your mouth, his pleasure threatening to surge up and over the edge. You can sense how close he is now, and the thrill of it has your aching cunt throbbing again. Kento watches in amazement as you slither your hand between your thighs, rubbing haphazard circles around your clit as you gag on his cock.
You force your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes as you look up at Kento, desperately wanting to see how he looks right now, so close to coming. You expect him to have his eyes squeezed shut with impending bliss, but you find he’s staring at you, mouth agape, gaze reverent and drunk from pleasure. And the moment your glassy, tear-filled eyes lock with his, he’s gone.
Kento comes with a choked sound, snapping a final deep thrust into your throat before stilling as his hot cum spurts down your throat.
You do your best to swallow it, but you can’t take it all. You pull off with a wet gasp, coughing and spluttering as you try not to choke on the cum coating your mouth and throat. Kento shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm, transfixed by the sight of you gasping for air, thick strings of saliva and cum running down your chin and connecting your mouth to his cock. That heady mixture of spit and cum drips and splatters on your shirt, your thighs, the floor, as you cough and catch your breath.
Mind still hazy with pleasure, Kento fumbles around to help you. He digs through his drawers and finds a handkerchief. He kneels down, cups your jaw, and begins to wipe your wet mouth and chin. He cleans your face gently, dazed and murmuring praises—before you cut him off with a whine.
“‘M sorry, Kento,” you whimper, looking genuinely disappointed.
“For what, love? You were perfect,” he soothes, confusion knitting his brow. You meet his gaze with a frown.
“I wasted your cum. I really wanted to drink it,” you say glumly, staring at the mess of cum staining your shirt and your thighs.
A beat passes as Kento stares at you with amazement, then he huffs out an incredulous laugh. He pulls you to his chest, shaking with mirth, as he smooths a hand down your back. You melt into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s alright. There’s more where that came from.”
You feel his wet, spent cock stir against your thigh.
———
a/n: the first time i had multiple orgasms i thought i was gonna die. idk how you guys are surviving 3+ back to back 😭 anyways I’ve looked at this way too long—please take it away from me 💀
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yeollie-plz · 5 months
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Miguel O’Hara x F! Reader
Synopsis: You babysit Mayday, it puts thoughts into Miguel’s head.
Genre: smut!
Warnings: smut, 18+, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy kink, p in v sex, kissing, biting, fingering, choking, spanking, daddy kink slipped in there at the end
Gif credits to owners!
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Miguel was expecting to come home to his beautiful wife, eat some food, maybe make love to her, and bask in each other’s warmth until they fell asleep. What he sure didn’t expect was to come home to said wife babysitting Mayday for Peter. You might have forgotten to mention to Miguel that you were babysitting tonight.
Honestly, you didn’t mention it because you didn’t want him to say no and Peter and MJ really needed the night out. No baby. So now you and your husband were going to have a night in. With a baby.
To say Miguel wasn’t thrilled would be an understatement. He was borderline angry with you at the “slip” of your mind. It’s not like Miguel hated Mayday in any aspect but the thought of you holding a baby brought up strange feelings inside of him.
He had tried for the year that Mayday has been around to try and push those feelings down. But every time he saw you even glance at the baby had him all in a fit. Miguel didn’t think he’d ever be ready for a child again, but seeing you so motherly was changing his mind.
I mean, he didn’t think he’d ever want to get married again and there you were changing his plans.
You two have had the baby talk before, as well. You were always so understanding of his past and never pushed him too far. But he did notice the disappointment on your face when he had said he never wanted kids.
Never? Why had he said never? It was such a harsh conclusion and in recent months, it was one he was regretting making.
He could imagine you now, belly full of his seed, a prominent bump showing what the two of you had made.
Shit. He needed to get those images out of his or he wouldn’t be able to hold back.
Shaking his head Miguel retreated to the kitchen, leaving you to continue to play with the baby uninterrupted. Busying himself with looking through the cabinets, like he wanted to cook something.
“Miggy?” You questioned as you entered the kitchen, Mayday perched on your hip. He turned and took in the sight, imagining what a mini you would look like. He sighed.
“Did you want me to make you something to eat?” You were trying to read the look on his face.
“No.” He grumbled and pushed pass you and into the living room.
“Miguel, I know you’re mad that I didn’t tell you. But it was an honest mistake. Plus, you know I love Mayday and since we-“
“Don’t.” He cut you off. Your mouth snapped closed at what you were about to say. Before you could apologize Miguel made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. You blinked in shock, you didn’t want to start a fight in front of poor little Mayday. This would have to be brought up later.
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It was nearing the time that Peter was supposed to arrive to pickup Mayday. You were a bit sad to say goodbye to her but you were also exhausted. Suddenly, you understood why Peter didn’t even change out of his pajamas most days. Especially with a spider baby!
She stuck to everything! And being someone without powers, your knowledge on the matter wasn’t very strong. Sure, you knew a lot about Miguel’s powers but he was what…Spider-Man number 30 out of 1 million? You wished you could ask Miguel for some help.
Eventually you figured out the best way to unstick Mayday was to distract her. Show her a toy, play peekaboo, maybe give her snack. Anything to keep her hands busy and off your ceiling. You hadn’t heard Miguel much through the night. You figured he had gone to sleep or was silently doing some work.
When you agreed to watch Mayday, you hoped the two of you would be able to do this as a team. But obviously, that thought was all wrong.
Peter came about 30 minutes later, knocking on your door. Miguel heard the door open, a few words being exchanged, and a rush of thank yous as the door shut once again. In a few quick steps you were moving across the house and throwing open the bedroom door. Miguel’s wife was not happy.
“Really Miggy? Slamming my doors now?” Usually the tone of her voice would make Miguel instantly apologize but he was too wound up to care.
“Yes I’m slamming our doors!” His voice was slightly raised as he gave a lackluster response, cringing at himself.
“All this and because I decided to help Peter out! You know they never get to go out. We are their friends Miguel, we should be helping them out!”
“I don’t mind helping out our friends, but this favor…I just.” He groans, running his face across his face and through his hair. His usually tight posture, slumping in exasperation.
“What Miggy? What is so aggravating about that little baby?” Your hands were on your hips, face turning red with your increasing anger. He was not going to get away with throwing this tantrum.
“It’s not the baby that is aggravating! It’s me seeing you with the baby!” His eyes soften as he admits the truth.
You were shocked, not understanding the meaning behind his words, “I’m the aggravating one?”
“No! Mi amor, it’s how I can’t get the thought of you round and pregnant out of my mind. The image of you running around chasing a child that we created. I thought after everything that I would never want that again but…”
It finally clicks, “You’re mad we don’t have a baby!”
“I’m mad I’m not inside you right now putting a baby in you” His eyes darken and rake across your form.
He crosses the room in three long strides, wrapping his arm around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips ghost along your neck, his hot breath creating goosebumps on your skin.
His mouth reaching your ear, whispering, “Do you want that? Want me to get you pregnant, baby?”
You can only whimper in response, which eggs Miguel on further, finally connecting his lips to yours. Desperation coats the kiss as he basically devours you.
He nips at your lower lip, pulling away. Looking down at you he takes a step back, your body reacts instinctively and tries to close the distance again. He stops you by cupping your clothed core. A strangled noise passes your lips as he uses his other hand to pull your dress over your head.
“Mmm, wore this like you knew I’d want easy access. Always so eager for this cock, hm?” His deep voice and words cause you to get even wetter.
The hand on your core moves a bit to tease you. He feels your wetness, moaning in satisfaction.
“I might not even need to prep you, baby. Wanna breed you like you weren’t meant to be bred.”
His hand grips your neck leading you towards the bed. The hand now makes it way behind your neck and brings your lips to his once again. The force causes you to moan.
“Why don’t you get on all fours for me?” He says it like a question, but you know it’s a command.
You do as you were told and get onto the bed on your hands and knees. You let your knees naturally rest a bit apart, knowing that he will just adjust you if he needs it. A hand runs down your spine, sending a shiver down with it. It reaches your ass and gives a squeeze before landing a firm smack there. Suddenly you hear a rip and feel your wet core exposed to the cool air. You glance down realizing that he had torn off your underwear.
You gasp, “Miggy!” Usually you would’ve found this extremely hot, if those weren’t your favorite panties!
“I’ll buy you new ones. Besides until you’re pregnant you’re not leaving this bed. You won’t be needing panties for a while.” Okay, now it’s hot again.
He doesn’t wait for you to respond and inserts a finger inside of you. He pumps the finger in and out quickly, testing how wet you are.
“Already all wet and ready for me. Just how I like you.”
Quickly, he pulls the finger out and before you can even protest at the loss he pushes his dick fully inside of you to the hilt. Another gasp passes your lips at the intrusion. He gives you no time to adjust before setting a pace, ravaging your body with his thick cock.
He continues his assault, pushing deep inside of you before pulling out almost completely and repeating the action. The force of his thrusts are making it hard for you to think, let alone hold yourself up. But when you start to fall to your elbows, his hand is quickly wrapped around your throat holding you up.
“Have you at the perfect angle, can feel all of you.” Is all he says as his fingers tighten on your throat. Your vision goes black from the intense pleasure.
He fucks into you harder as the pressure of his fingers releases slowly, letting some air back into your lungs. When you have enough air, you are moaning out as a particular thrust hits the perfect spot.
“Miggy please, need you to make me cum. Need your cum in me.”
His large body incapsulates yours at your confession. The hand that was on your throat makes it way down to your clit, rubbing circles into it. His teeth bite down into your shoulder, sending a shock of pleasure through you as you cum hard onto his cock.
The clenching of your orgasm causes him to groan and falter a bit, before he regains his head and pace.
“Mmm, gonna cum in you baby. Gonna make you a mommy.” He says as he shoots his seed into your awaiting womb. His orgasm seems longer and stronger than usual as he bites your shoulder once again.
After he recovers, he releases your throat, letting you fall into the plush sheets. Miguel slides out of you and pulls your body into his. He rubs your back in slow circles, calming you both down.
Eventually you speak up, “So what do you think? Think it worked, daddy?” Lust drips from your voice at the name.
“Fuck, maybe, and even if it didn’t I’m ready to go again. Just want you so full of my cum that you can feel it with every breath.”
And fill you he did.
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wheresarizona · 21 days
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but I would die for you in secret
summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)
word count: 7.1k+
a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
Masterlist - One Shot
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The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.
To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.
Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.
So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.
Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.
If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.
You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.
There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.
It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.
Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.
That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.
It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.
Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.
Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.
The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.
The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.
And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.
It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.
Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.
For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”
“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.
There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.
“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.
You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.
“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.
“No-none,” you stammer.
His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”
“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”
His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.
His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.
Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.
“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”
Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.
Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.
“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”
“Yes.”
He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”
The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.
“Yes,” you gasp.
“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”
“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.
“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”
He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.
It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.
He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.
The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.
You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”
His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”
You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.
Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.
“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.
“Yes.”
The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”
“Yes,” you moan.
He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.
The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.
He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”
His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”
He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.
His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.
You’re so close; you’re just needing—
Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”
That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.
A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.
It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.
Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.
Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”
His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?
He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.
All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.
His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.
When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.
Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.
He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.
“What did you say?” you ask.
“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”
The question has your tight walls constricting around him.
“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.
The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”
“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”
He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.
The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.
For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.
It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.
Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.
“Joel?” you break the silence.
“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.
“What are we?”
“Huh?”
“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”
His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.
“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.
You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”
His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”
“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”
“Well, there’s Ellie—”
“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”
“Yes.”
“So, you have feelings for me?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me…?”
“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.
One word has your heart picking up in speed.
“I love you, too.”
His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”
A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.
“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”
His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”
Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”
He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.
This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.
“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”
His eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”
His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.
“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”
“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”
He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”
Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”
He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.
“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”
“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”
His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”
Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”
“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.
“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”
“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.
You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”
“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.
“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”
He smiles. “I know.”
“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”
“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”
“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”
You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.
“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.
“I do,” you reply.
“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.
“‘Cause no one else can?”
He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.
His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”
And something about that declaration thrills you.
“I’d like that.”
He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.
“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”
You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.
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The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.
All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.
From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.
He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.
Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:
It was time for him to tell Ellie.
Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.
If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.
He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.
He hates that.
He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.
When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.
He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.
The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.
It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.
It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.
His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.
“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.
“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.
“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”
He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”
She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.
“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.
She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I asked you first.”
She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.
“I was at the same place you were.”
He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.
He meets her eyes. “And that is?”
She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”
“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”
“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.
“You done?”
“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”
His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”
“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”
“Were we really that obvious?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”
“What topic?”
“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”
He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”
She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”
“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”
His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”
“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”
“You’re what?!”
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Masterlist - One Shot
Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 
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inkskinned · 3 months
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you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.
(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)
but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.
(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)
there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.
(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)
you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.
(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)
you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.
in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.
but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.
they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.
it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.
#spilled ink#warm up#can you tell what i'm mad about today specifically#i will say that there are a LOT of things that go into this. like a lot. this is ungendered and unspecific for a reason#it isn't just sexism. it's also racism. and ableism. and honestly classism.#and before a healthcare professional reads this as a personal attack: i understand ur burnt out#we are ALSO burnt out. your situation is also dire. this is not an attack on you.#this is a commentary on the incredible amounts of bigotry that lie at the heart of capitalism#where people have to pay money out of pocket to be told to fuck off.#your job is important. so is our humanity. and if you cannot accept that people are fucking mad as hell#at the industry - you are probably not listening .#anyway at some point im gonna write a piece about sexism specifically in medical shit#but i don't want terfs clowning in it bc they can't understand nuance#> it is true that ppl w/a uterus are more likely to experience medical malpractice & dismissal globally#> it is also true that trans people experience an equally fucked up and bad time in the medical field#> great news! the medical industrial complex is an equal opportunity life ruiner :)#(if you find it necessary to go into a debate about biology while discussing medical malpractice#i want to warn you that you're misunderstanding the issue. because guess what.#cis MEN might experience this. particularly black men. particularly disabled men.#so YES having a uterus can lead to more trouble for you. but this happens a LOT.#instead of fighting those ALSO experiencing your pain.... try working WITH them.#which btw. is like. actual feminism.)
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Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)
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Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.
Word Count: 1.957
“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.
“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.
“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.
“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”
“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.
It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.
As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.
Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.
It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.
“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.
“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.
“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”
“I would like that,” he smiled.
He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.
Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.
“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.
“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.
We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.
Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.
Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.
“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.
“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.
At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.
“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.
I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.
“Prep me up?” I mumbled.
Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.
“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.
“Francis…” I whimpered.
He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.
I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.
I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.
When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.
I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.
When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.
The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.
“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.
I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.
The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.
“I’m cuming,” I begged.
“Wait for me,” Francis urged.
He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.
“Francis, please” I begged again.
“Almost there” he grunted.
I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.
I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.
“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.
I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.
At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.
Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.
“I love you” he whispered between kisses.
“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.
He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.
“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.
“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”
“Just some water, please”.
I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.
The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.
Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.
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prettyfastcars · 2 months
Text
owned | Mob!Lando
Summary: You took the job because the pay was extremely good. Your boss’ reputation didn’t make that much of a difference to you. After all, his kids were who you would be spending most of your time with, not the single father… right? 
Themes: nanny!reader, infidelity, sort of dark!mob!lando, smut, explicit language, possessive!lando, breeding kink (brief)
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“I’d like to see you before you leave.” 
It was the same sentence every night. Every single night. And each night, those words tormented you. You felt too much at the same time. Guilt. Shame. Hunger. Lust. More guilt. Anticipation. 
The first night, on your first day many months ago, when he first said those words to you when he came home from work, you thought they were harmless. Maybe a caring father wanting to know how his kids behaved with their nanny on her first day. You’d thought that he’d ask you about your day with his kids. 
And he did ask. But that wasn’t all. When you left his study room that night to go home, something in you had changed. Nothing had happened without your consent, and yet it felt like he had invaded a part of you that you didn’t know existed. And the worst part was, you couldn’t wait for him to do it again. 
And now, that damn sentence had become part of your routine. 
After putting the kids to bed, and making sure they were asleep and snoring adorably, you made your way to those huge doors of his study room. 
You didn’t need to knock anymore, you just walked in and shut the doors behind you. 
And there he was. The man most people were scared of in this city. The man who had hired you as the nanny for his kids. Also the man whom you slept with each night before going home to your oblivious boyfriend. 
Lando stood by the large window, looking down at his front yard which was easily one of the most impressive features of his cape cod style mansion. As usual, he was sipping on his drink. Hand running through his curly hair. He had his back to you but you knew he must have the top buttons of his shirt undone. 
You cleared your throat as you approached his lean body standing by the window. Lando turned to face you then, smiling as he watched you walk over to him. Once you were close enough, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer. 
Nuzzling your neck and breathing in your scent he said, “Hi baby, how was your day?” 
“Um, good.” You gasped when you felt his gentle kisses up and down your neck. 
“How were the kids?” He asked, casually kissing your skin like this was normal. 
“They were great, as always.” Your heart raced as you wrapped your arms around him, his body heat felt familiar and… good. It felt safe being here with him, no matter how wrong it was. 
“You missed me?” He asked, pulling you even closer as he playfully nibbled on your skin. “‘Cause I missed you. I thought of you all day, you know that?” He pulled away to look at you. “I saw you in this little dress this morning and I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you in it.” 
He leaned in to kiss you, like he always does, but tonight you stopped him. You turned your head just the slightest bit so he’d miss your mouth. And he didn’t like that. 
“I… I can’t stay tonight.” You whispered, looking down at the buttons on his shirt instead of into his pretty eyes. Because you could never resist them. 
Lando sighed, kissing along your jaw. You could smell a faint hint of the whiskey he’d just been drinking. “Why do you always do this? Hmm?” He whispered into your ear, “Why do you act like you don’t want this?” 
He placed his glass down on his desk and let his hands wander all over you. He ended up pushing you onto the edge of his desk, stepping in between your legs. One hand sliding under your dress and caressing your thighs, while the other ran up and down your back lovingly. 
“I have to go home.” You said, looking into his eyes and immediately regretting it because he could get you to do anything with one look of those soft eyes. 
“To him?” He asked in an accusatory tone. His expression changed from calm to annoyed. He tsked in disappointment when you remained quiet. “How many times are you gonna talk about this, baby?” 
“I can’t just break up with him.” You argued. “We’ve–,” 
He cut you off. “Oh? So you can’t break up with him but you have no issues going home to him every night with my cum still dripping from your pussy, huh?” 
You used to find his crude words shocking, but not anymore. “It’s not as easy as you think.” 
Lando scoffed, “I’ll make it easier for you if you want.” 
You knew what he insinuated. He was the man he was because of his crooked ways after all. And you immediately shook your head. “Don’t hurt him.” 
That only pissed him off more. His hand moved from your back to wrap around your neck, “We’re not gonna play this little game anymore, you hear me?” He whispered against your skin, lips moving along your jaw while his fingers toyed with the seam of your underwear. 
You struggled to find the right words. So he continued. 
“How long are you gonna keep him in the dark, hmm? How long are you gonna keep going home and sleep beside him while you’re still filled with my cum every night?” He scoffed. “He’s gonna find out someday.” He stated. “Better tell him the truth.” 
“Lando…” You were barely able to think coherently when he easily slid his fingers inside you, stroking you perfectly like he always does. You squirmed and whimpered, before whispering, “This is wrong. We should stop.” 
“So you keep saying.” He answered, arrogant and smug. “Yet you come here each and every night to get fucked.” He pulled away to look into your eyes, still finger-fucking you just hard enough to keep you wanting more but not making you come just yet. “Does this feel wrong, baby?” 
You let out a loud moan as his finger hit the right spot. “Please…” You begged, you didn’t know what for. 
He smirked. “Look at you,” He cooed, “I know he doesn’t touch you like I do. You’re wasting your time with him when you belong to me. You belong right here,” He whispered, pulling his fingers all the way out before sliding them back in, making you moan even louder, “See?” 
You opened your mouth to answer, probably about to beg him to touch you more, but he was already pushing you down onto his desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his lean waist as he bent down to kiss you. His hand still around your neck while the other slid the strap of your slip dress down your shoulder. 
He let go of your throat eventually, still kissing you passionately as his hands quickly got rid of your dress, letting it fall to the ground careless as his mouth kissed down your neck, further down your chest until he latched on to one of your nipples. He sucked on it gently as your back arched off the desk, with you whining in bliss. 
You cried out, “Lando…” 
“I know, baby.” He whispered, “I know.” 
Your fingers found their way into his soft, curly hair and you tugged on it softly, making him groan as he kissed his way up to your neck once again while he slid your underwear down your legs quickly. 
“You’re mine.” He whispered against your tender, swollen lips, “All mine.” 
His hands quickly undid his trousers and you immediately felt his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your wet folds as he slid it up and down before aligning it to your dripping hole. 
Lando held himself up with one hand, bent over you as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna break things off with him tonight.” He said in that authoritative voice of his, the one which made you tremble and clench your thighs together. “And tomorrow you’ll be all mine, and mine alone. You understand?” 
You nodded, panting in need. 
“That’s my good girl.” He whispered before slowly sliding his cock inside you. You whimpered as he filled you up perfectly, stretching you out just enough to make you lose your mind. He groaned as he began moving in and out of you, setting a pace that made your heart race even faster than before. He slowed down for a moment, thrusting into you nice and slow as he hovered above you, looking down at you with parted lips and intense eyes. “Do you know how often I think about us living here together?”
You couldn’t look away from his pretty eyes, couldn’t think about anything else as he fucked you with deep, slow strokes of his cock. He leaned in to kiss your lips, swallowing your moans as he pulled out completely and pushed back into you, making you gasp and whine in pleasure. 
“We’ll be so happy together.” He whispered, kissing along your jaw. “The kids love you,” Then he chuckled, “I love you,” He murmured into your ear. He picked up his pace then, pounding into you relentlessly, as he kissed your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and whimpers in the process. “Think about how happy we would be.” 
You whined upon hearing his words, and also the sounds your bodies made together, filling the entire study. 
“Look at me, baby.” He stared down at you, his pretty eyes seemed even prettier in the dimmed room. “Do you know how often I think about you carrying more kids for me?” He was relentless as he pounded into you like he owned you. “You’ll be such a pretty mom, all swollen, and these tits would be nice and full too,” He leaned in again, kissing you softly before whispering, dangerously. “Would that finally make you leave that piece of shit? Hmm? Is that what it’s gonna take?” 
You tried answering but it ended with a loud moan as his cock reached all the right places. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it. Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you. 
“I’ll…” You whined, “I’ll talk to him. Tonight.” You struggled to form proper sentences as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I promise.” 
“That’s good.” He whispered, wiping a tear which fell down your face. “Because I’m done being patient now, you hear me?” 
You nodded quickly, whining as he sped up again, fucking you so hard you could hear the papers and files on top of his desk falling to the ground and neither of you cared. 
“Come for me, baby.” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. “Come with me.” 
Your mind was foggy by then, and it took your brain a few seconds to register and process his words. Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls. 
“Fuck,” He came with a growl, gripping your hips and filling you up like he always does. 
You whined as you came around him as well, crying his name and moaning loudly. You felt his smirk against your neck as he kissed his way up to your lips again. 
“Tomorrow,” He whispered, reminding you of what you promised, “I’ll fuck you in my bed until the sun comes up.” 
You could only nod as you felt his cum beginning to drip down your inner thighs. 
— 
He stood by the window again, watching your car as it drove away down the long driveway and out of his property. 
This would be the last time he promised himself. From now on you wouldn’t have to go home each night. You’d just stay right here, where you belonged, under his roof and in his care. 
But just in case things didn’t go according to plan… 
Lando grabbed his phone and made a quick call. Barking his orders at his guy who listened intently on the other side. 
“She just left. Go wait by her apartment complex.” He smirked as he spoke, “I’m willing to bet they’ll have an argument, and just as always, he’ll storm out to go get some air.” 
Lando knew that because… well, he always kept an eye on you through the discrete cameras he’d had installed all around your building. How else would he sleep in peace if he didn’t have eyes on his girl at all times? 
He continued, “I’ll tell you when he leaves her apartment, and you’ll move then. Wait for him to walk past the alleyway, and remember, make it look like an accident.” He sighed, even as excitement washed over him, “Can’t have my girl blame me for killing her ex boyfriend.”
--
part 2
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Text
A DC X DP IDEA #28
My Beloved
Imagine dis…
You know, I like misunderstandings…
I saw a bunch of prompts that Danny is the mother of Ellie and Dan who is angry and will destroy the world in the future.
I also saw a bunch of prompts of Danny and Phantom separating themselves and acting like two individual beings but having to be in proximity or else there would be consequences.
But I didn’t see anything about combining the two things…
HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE
Daniel “Danny” Fenton knew that he had many powers, that kept on growing and appearing at the heat of the moment. He would sometimes forget how many powers he had due to his never-ending list. He has powers that he likes to use often, like levitation, flight, intangibility, his ghostly wail, and many more… But even he has a favorite, his duplication power.
Unlike Vlad who can create multiple clones of himself to do his bidding, he can only create one.
Now don’t go on and underestimate him just because he can only create one despite Vlad making multiple and who is also a halfa.
His clone is unique, when he first discovered this power of his he was all alone in the house full of guns to kill him when a passing thought passed his mind. Wes was getting on his nerves with how he adamantly tried to prove that he was Phantom. He knew the consequences when the people knew the truth, especially his parents, every time he closed his eyes it always showed him and his parents at the other end of the dissecting table.
He kept on saving them, poor animal ghosts who had just stumbled through the portal. He kept on stuffing his face with his pillows just to block out the screams.
He had just blinked, one moment he was all alone and all of a sudden another appeared in front of him.
He was startled at the notion while the clone looked at him with interest.
The clone was not human-HIM per se, but it was the ghostly-HIM aka Phantom but with more ghostly attributes.
Snow white hair that seems to sway, taller by a few feet, pointed ears, fanged teeth, skin so blue, and white freckles that seem to give off a faint glow.
He tried going ghost but was unable to do so, what he can do is a weaker version of flight, intangibility, and invisibility. While Phantom got most if not all of his powers whenever he went ghost.
At first, he was ecstatic with this new power of his not only he can throw people off who are looking too deeply into Phantom’s identity and put an end to Wes’s chatter but with this new power of his he can finally have some sort of normalcy.
But after a few minutes, he began to feel fatigued and nauseous, Phantom slowly moved towards Danny and merged himself with his human half causing a faint white glow all over his body that he got used to whenever he was going ghost.
It was a few minutes, Danny thought to himself, but it was enough to not only create a separation between the kid who always hides in the bathroom or disappears whenever there is a ghost attack and a ghost kid who looks the same age as he and only appears whenever he disappears.
But it was enough.
Everything was great, as Phantom was able to deal with the ghosts that constantly invaded his hometown but also, he is slowly bringing his grades up from where it was before the accident. He also created an alibi for himself so people will know that both Phantom and Danny and two separate people.
Both sides were able to go on separated from each other the more time they spent separated
After a few days, something also began to change.
Phantom would sometimes make a joke or a quip about death or even puns that made Danny laugh. Phantom would be more serious whenever they got too far from each other, small things that made both Danny and Phantom different from one another from an outside perspective.
Both made a mental connection to each other.
Not like romantically, but more of a deep platonic love for each other.
Devotion to each of their other halves. So deep that one might double-take whenever they saw the two.
Danny loves his friends and family but even they cannot understand him ever since the day of the accident. Jazz blessed his sister’s soul, who read every book in every existence known to man and tried to help him. But the thing is, those books are for humans, not ghosts, and especially not for someone like him.
He died and came back to life knowing instinctively that something was wrong with him. He stands in between life and death. He knew he died and felt every bolt of electricity that had killed him. He who had to sit still at the dinner table listening to their parents who were supposed to love them, listened in great detail to what they would do to Phantom when they had caught him. 
But Phantom, Phantom instinctively knew how he felt and heard his thoughts. When rough days came to Danny, Phantom quietly appeared behind him and offered his silent support.
Both needed each other to live, without the other one cannot survive on their own.
Phantom, when got too far and separated from his human for far too long got reckless, angry, cold, merciless, and ruthless. Nocturn got the burnt of it despite knowing that Phantom held back.
And Danny?
Got too emotional, and detached, and has that far-away look on his face. He would space out an entire war or destruction surrounding and he still would not notice.
Both are each other’s anchor and rock. And when both become one and become Phantom together then they will be unstoppable.
When Danny became the Ghost King it was clear they needed to separate often due to the amount of paperwork that was left pilling when Pariah Dark was in charge.
It became domestic, Danny thought as he paused for a bit when he was trying to write a book report from the Lord of the Rings courtesy of Mr. Lancer. Add the latest guests in his room he thought as he took a look at the sleeping and cuddled up Dan and Ellie who are now freshly de-aged due to some circumstances.
When Danny tried to explain to the two halves the reason why he and Phantom seemed to separate or why he was using this power of his almost every day.
Dan and Ellie seem the only two who didn’t feel weird at his new predicament. Both de-aged ghosts after a sudden bad melting episode and the start of someone’s redemption arc called human Danny is their mom while Phantom is their dad.
Danny at first surprised at the title given by the two but asked playfully to the twins why is he the mom. Phantom who was trying to cuddle the two de-aged ghosts whom he saw as his children at this point and his human counterpart mumbled about whether was it the time when he went and juggled flaming diapers or mastered the art of the 'mom stare' that could freeze a room?
Danny who is still in a bad mood from Dash’s bullying earlier snarked back at Phantom on how he got the dad title. Did he accidentally perfect the art of 'dad dancing' during ghostly gatherings? or accidentally stumble into a dad joke competition?
Sam, often would joke that if she didn’t know better, she would think the two would be lovers which would be found in Paulina’s A03 account and history.
Now that spread like wildfire, it spread faster than Wes could say Danny is Phantom. Now both GIW and his parents are out to get him for two different reasons… One Phantom mind controlled their precious son and now locked up Danny for his “own good” and two he was called a so-called “traitor” to his race as he fell in love with a creature who was not even sentient.
As things slowly went out of hand, Danny had to physically drag Phantom, who had been clawing and gripping to Danny like a lifetime ever since Danny told him to stay at the Infinite Realms for their safety, to a portal with the two children who have their eyes puffed red as they say their farewells to each other.
The JL is now confused, they kept seeing the same teen on the loose that appeared in various cities such as Metropolis, Central, Star City, and many more, with various government agents tailing him and trying to capture him.
At first, they thought it was another of Walker’s programs, in which they kidnap various kids who have a powerful meta ability to be part of a group that directly answers to the government.
But when it was revealed that he is another son of Bruce Wayne, it became personal.
Could it be another ploy to gain the Wayne enterprise through a much older and miniature appearance of Bruce Wayne, is it another ploy to gain Bruce Wayne’s wealth and money… They might never know.
Batman aka Bruce Wayne publicly announced that he had found another son who was rummaging in the trash of Gotham City, this way those mysterious agents could not publicly go after him as Danny had been publicly broadcasted and the manor is equipped with the latest security known to man.
Danny is very skittish the Batfam concluded, as if every move and twitch they made is something Danny should be wary of. Danny was too distracted to be sad, and have little to no energy to even join Dick and the rest of his siblings to bond over something.
However, that didn’t stop them from forming some sort of familial bond with Danny despite him being too guarded and too wary to get close to the family.
However, it all changed on a random day, as the entire noticed his change of mood. No longer the wariness, anxiety, and nervousness they encountered daily. Each of them began asking around within themselves if they were the one who made a change to Danny, even Alfred didn’t know who or what made him turn a 180.
Of course, when they tried to ask COUGH to interrogate COUGH Danny, he just kept quiet and smiled shyly.
..
Night comes and all the Bats are gathered at the cave to discuss what made Danny to be in a good mood before their patrol.
As they were just about to leave for their shift when Oracle notified them Danny leaving the manor.
Of course, all of them immediately followed him and followed him to a tall abandoned building with Danny sitting giddily on top of the said building. Of course, some of them have some dark thoughts about Danny sitting on top of a warehouse and seeming near the edge. One of the Bat broods is ready to interfere if Danny even makes any signs.
But all thoughts were thrown out as a crack seemed to tear through reality appeared behind Danny, Danny on the other hand looked ecstatic. As the tear/ crack opened up there they saw an underworldly being donned with a crown that is covered in various jewels, an outfit and cape fit for an emperor, and eyes that reminded them of the Lazarus pits.
Just as the moment they tried to calm their hearts down, Danny flung himself towards the unknown being and cried out beloved, the said being caught Danny and twirled him around.
Both are in their little world as they both keep laughing and hugging each other.
The Bat family who are still in the shadows kept their eyes on the two as they wanted to get Danny away from someone that made their instincts go haywire. Batman and Robin are both especially to grab Danny away from that thing.
Both the being and Danny finally settled down and began chatting to each other with little to no distance between the two. The being then summoned a basket that was full of unique and exotic food and then shared it with their new brother.
Then Danny suddenly asked about the kids, What kids!!! EVERYONE thought when suddenly two black blurs went and tackled Danny down, knocking the air out of him.
As the kids stopped hugging Danny, they all held their breaths, they looked like the perfect copy of Danny. Black hair and blue eyes, both kids exclaimed Danny as their mom while they pouted at the being and called him dad about hoarding their mom.
The reunited “family” began chatting about how they were at each other, more on the beings asking how Danny is especially doing.
Danny chatted about how the Waynes are too good for him and how he informed Batman since the Bats have a very close relationship with the Waynes. When one of the kids why mom needs to talk to Batman, Danny just casually reveals a bombshell on the Anti-Ecto laws, GIW, The Infinite realms...etc. So that both mom and dad could get together again, as mom aka Danny is trying everything to stop the war from the living world while their dad tries to stop the war from the Realms.
As they were chatting and catching up to one another, Danny looked at his wristwatch and told the kids that he had to get going or else the Waynes might notice that he snuck out. Both kids immediately cried and gripped Danny while the other being also known as dad didn’t even try to pry the kids off from Danny as he too wanted to stay with the human.
Of course, Danny gently pried off the three hands that were gripping and immediately one of the kids threw a tantrum at how Danny was not safe and might get him killed if he stayed there and Danny should just go with them. Of course, Danny shook his head and told the kid that Mommy was doing everything he could to protect both of them also he might not want to admit it in front of the Wayne but he did grow on them, like a fungus he can’t remove.
And so, the trio left the building after one last look and hug from Danny, Danny immediately lost the small life and cheerfulness that he had when he was meeting them and silently went back to the manor.
This made the Bat clan scramble to fix everything, all the while competing for the favorite uncle and aunt title while both Bruce and Alfred engage in their silent war for the grandpa title, when they showed their findings to the League both Booster Gold and the Flask stood up white as paper.
They claimed at the picture of Danny, that he may be the one who destroyed the future, but looked a little confused as some traits that they remembered were not on Danny which made them speculate that maybe he grew into. But when the two-time travelers explained in great detail his appearance, it matched the appearance of their nephew.
Is this the reason why Dan turned evil, humans have killed his family leaving him both angry and devastated that he let the world know of his pain?
PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.
PPS: As you can see, I posted a bit early, I got a bunch of people to do and things to see. So uhh, bye-bye!
PPPS: This one got too long for my liking...
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